Frodo and Harry
by tinuvielb
Summary: Frodo and Sam, bearing the One Ring, are mysteriously transported to Hogwarts. But the Ring retains its evil power, tempting the faculty and attracting a certain Dark Lord. (MAJOR SPOILERS in the reviews!!!!)
1. Many Meetings

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Chapter 1: Many Meetings

Sitting in by the fireside in the Gryffindor common room, three fifth-year Hogwarts students were discussing their options for the evening.

"Let's go to Hogsmeade!" said Ron.

"What, tonight?" asked Hermione.

"Why not? We haven't been allowed to go since You-Know-Who turned up again. I'm getting stir-crazy. Harry's got his Marauder's Map and his Invisibility Cloak. Why not sneak out? A fun Friday night at the pub, what do you say, Harry?"

Harry smiled. He had been feeling a bit restless lately, too. The school year so far had been like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nothing had happened; he was tired of being careful. "Why not!" he said. "Let's go." He swept up his Map and Cloak and the three of them tiptoed down the stairs, feeling most delightfully naughty. They headed for the third-floor corridor, where a statue of a one-eyed witch provided a convenient secret passageway to Hogsmeade.

"Uh-oh," said Harry. On the Marauder's Map he pointed to a little dot, labeled _Snape_. It was coming from the third floor and moving directly towards them. "Let's go outside, instead, and make for the Whomping Willow entrance to Hogsmeade," said Harry. "I've figured out how to stop those nasty branches from a safe distance. You just hit a certain knot with an Impediment spell." They turned around, slipped out a side door, and walked out onto the Hogwarts grounds.

"Well, master, we're in a fix and no mistake," said Samwise Gamgee. He stood despondently with hunched shoulders beside Frodo Baggins, as they surveyed the jagged hills of Emyn Muil. To the east they could see the mountains of Mordor, hung about with smoke.

It had been three days since they had left the fellowship, and they had still not found a way off of the treacherous slopes. They often retraced their steps because they could find no way forward, or discovered that they had wandered in a circle back to where they had been hours before. Always they found the outer faces sheer, high and impassable. The place was barren, without sign of food or water.

"Fix or no fix," said Frodo, "We cannot stay here all night. We must find a more sheltered spot, and camp once more; perhaps another day will show us a path." 

They turned and went down towards a stone hollow, their way made more difficult by the appearance of a grey and unnaturally thick mist that wrapped itself around them. Then suddenly, a strange sensation caught and washed over them. Everything around them seemed to shimmer, collapse, and reform. The mists cleared. The landscape changed. They found themselves standing before a high stone gate, with a castle rising in the distance. 

They peered at the gate, confused. They could see lettering on it, but could not make it out in the deep, moonless darkness. "If only we could see what it says," whispered Frodo. "I fear we have come a long way from home."

"What about the Lady's star-glass?" asked Sam. "A light to you in dark places, she said it was."

"Why yes!" said Frodo. "I had forgotten." He held aloft the Phial of Galadriel. It kindled to a silver light; and darkness receded before it. They peered at the lettering on the gate:

****

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

"School?" asked Sam, incredulously. "For Wizards? Do you suppose that Gandalf went here?"

"I do not know; but if there are Wizards within, they may be able to help us," said Frodo. As they spoke, the gate slowly creaked open. The Hobbits stepped inside, and walked quickly towards the castle...and then collided heavily with something that wasn't there.

Frodo sprawled headlong and became entangled in some sort of fabric. When he stood, he found himself facing two boys and a girl who had appeared as if by magic. They were as surprised to see him as he was to see them.

The girl, bushy-haired with bright brown eyes, spoke first. "Who are you?" she asked, scoldingly. "Are you first-years? You're not supposed to be out on the grounds at night."

"Well, technically, neither are we," said one of the boys, laughing as he ran a hand through his bright red hair.

Frodo bowed low. "I am Frodo, son of Drogo. This is my faithful servant, Samwise Gamgee. We are Hobbits of the Shire. We are weary travelers bearing a great Burden. We seek the assistance of..." Frodo stopped. He heard a hissing noise and the sound of flapping feet.

"Gollum!" Frodo cried.

"No, Snape!" said the other boy, peering at a piece of parchment through round, black glasses. "Under the Invisibility Cloak, now!" The children grabbed Frodo and Sam, and they all huddled together under the Cloak.

A tall man in black robes had just opened the front door of Hogwarts castle and stepped outside. He first peered into the darkness; then stood still, apparently listening. After a few moments, he went back inside.

"That was close," sighed the boy holding the parchment. He bent down to the Hobbits. "I'm Harry; this is Hermione and Ron."

"What's a Hobbit?" asked Ron.

"I remember reading a very old book about Hobbits," said Hermione. "The name Frodo sounds familiar..."

Just then the door opened again. Severus Snape had returned; this time he was accompanied by a very old man with a long, grey beard.

Frodo could not believe his eyes. Forgetting himself, he threw off the Invisibility Cloak and cried, "Gandalf! Gandalf! You're alive!" Frodo ran up the stairs and flung his arms about the old man's waist. Sam came running after.

The old man looked down, his blue eyes twinkling in bemused astonishment. "Gandalf? I have not been called Gandalf in a very long time." He stooped down to look more closely at Frodo. "You are not a student here. Who are..."

"He says he's Frodo son of Drogo. A hobbit of the Shire," Hermione interrupted helpfully. "I remember reading about hobbits in a very old, Red Book called 'The Downfall of the Lord..." 

  
"Frodo son of Drogo? Frodo Baggins?" asked the old man in wonder. "But Frodo Baggins passed into the twilight many years ago..."  


"Twilight?" asked Frodo, uncomprehending. "Boromir was corrupted by the Ring and tried to take it from me. Sam and I split from the company and made our way to Emyn Muil. But we could not find a way down. We were overtaken by a foul mist. Then the mists cleared, and we found ourselves here. We are weary, and my burden is heavy.

  
"Burden?" asked the old man.

  
"The Ring." Frodo drew the Ring out on its chain. Immediately Harry felt his scar begin to burn, an excruciating, searing pain. 

  
Snape gasped and stepped backwards, his black eyes darting from the Ring to its bearer. "Frodo Baggins. _The _Frodo Baggins. Back from the mists of time and legend. With his Quest...incomplete?"

  
"Frodo. Dear, dear Frodo," said the old man. "To see you again, after so many thousands of years, should be an occasion of great joy. Alas, I greatly fear that you and the Ring have been brought here to evil purpose." He sighed. "Frodo, Sam and Harry, come with me. Professor Snape, please escort Hermione and Ron back to the Gryffindor portrait-hole."

The old man swept Harry, Frodo, and Sam into his office, shut the door and sat down. Sam, able to restrain himself no longer, blurted, "Here, Gandalf, what is going on? What did you mean by 'thousands of years' since you saw Mr. Frodo? It's only been a month or so since Moria. How did you escape, anyway?"   
  
The old man replied, "Dear Sam. Dear, dear Frodo. Such a happy, unlooked-for meeting. I had never hoped to meet Hobbits of the Shire again. Indeed, I had quite forgotten about the inquisitiveness of Hobbits!"  
  
"You have stepped out of one Age of the Earth into another. The Third Age of Middle Earth ended with the defeat of Sauron and the wedding of Arwen Undomiel and King Elessar, who you knew as Aragorn of Arathorn."  
  
"Strider!" cried Sam.  
  
"The very one." The old man continued. "The return of the King gave new hope and strength to the Men of Gondor. But his marriage to Queen Arwen had results that no one predicted. Though she had renounced her heritage and become mortal, some of her lineage retained the ability to perform Elven magic. This ability did not wane through the generations, and even became stronger. Thus a new race was born: mortals capable of doing powerful magic.   
  
"Although I had sailed over the seas to Elvenhome at the end of the Third Age, never hoping to see Middle Earth again, it became apparent to the Valar that someone would need to train and guide these powerful mortals, lest they destroy Middle Earth. And so I returned. This is a training school, and I am its headmaster: I am now known as Albus Dumbledore.   
  
"Alas, the destruction of Sauron was not the end of evil on the earth. A dark sorcerer, calling himself Lord Voldemort arose, and he wrought great evil upon the earth. He was nearly killed fourteen years ago, and lived on only as a disembodied spirit. But a few months ago he was able to regain a body, and now is rebuilding his power. I fear that your being here, bearing the Ring, is more than just a happy coincidence."

  
"But if Sauron is defeated, how would the Ring help Voldemort?" asked Frodo.   
  
"I do not fully know," replied Dumbledore, his expression troubled. "But I suspect that as long as the Ring remains in existence, the power of Sauron lives on. Thus it is still a force of great corruption and evil."

  
"It seems our course is as clear now as it was, as you say, thousands of years ago," said Frodo quietly. "I must continue my journey to Mt. Doom and destroy the Ring."  
  
"Mount Doom?" said Dumbledore. "The volcano of Orodruin went dormant a thousand years ago. There is no Crack of Doom, there are no fires to destroy the Ring."

Frodo and Sam exchanged glances, stunned.

"It may be," said Dumbledore, "That the Ring can be destroyed by other means. I shall call a Wizard's council to decide this question. Until then, I believe that you should remain here at Hogwarts. Lord Voldemort may be looking for the Ring and for you, Frodo. Hogwarts is the safest place for you now.  
  
"As for the Ring itself; it was made long before the days of mortal magic. I wonder." Dumbledore broke off and looked at Harry. "Harry, perform a Summoning Spell on the Ring."  
  
Harry lifted his wand and said, "_Accio_ Ring." The Ring flew off the chain around Frodo's neck, and into Harry's hand. Harry's scar, which had been aching ever since he first saw the Ring, exploded into unbearable pain. Harry dropped the Ring, and collapsed to the floor with his head in his hands.   
  
Frodo retrieved the Ring as Sam helped Harry back to his seat. Dumbledore shook his head. "The youngest student at Hogwarts could take the Ring from you, Frodo. The Ring will also be a fascination and temptation to our most powerful professors."

"Snape," thought Harry, darkly. 

"This may help, at least temporarily." Dumbledore reached into his desk, and pulled out a simple, silver locket. He opened it and said, "Put the Ring inside, Frodo." Dumbledore then tapped the locket with his wand and muttered a long incantation. Sam shifted uneasily in his chair. Dumbledore then handed the locket back to Frodo.  
  
Taking the locket, Frodo was astonished. "Is the Ring really in there? It feels so...so light."   
  
"Yes, it is there," replied Dumbledore. "You have long grown accustomed to its evil weight. The locket itself will shield you and others somewhat from its influence, at least for a time. The locket cannot be stolen by magical means. And only a Hobbit can open it, and then only voluntarily, not under the influence of a controlling spell.  
  
"And now, what to do with you, Frodo and Sam? Where in Hogwarts shall we keep you? I think the student houses are best; they are well-guarded." Dumbledore smiled, reached behind his desk, and picked up the Sorting Hat. He had merely begun to turn back towards Frodo and Sam when the Hat sang out "Gryffindor!" As Dumbledore replaced the Hat it added, testily, "As if you even needed to ask."  
  
"Gryffindor it is!" laughed Dumbledore. He looked back and forth between Harry and Frodo. "Stick close to Harry, Frodo," he said. "Harry has long been a target of Lord Voldemort, and has defended himself ably on a number of occasions. And, judging from what we saw earlier, he would be the last person to take the ring." Harry rubbed his forehead at the thought.   
  
Dumbledore stood and bade them all good night. As they passed out into the hall, Harry thought he heard Dumbledore's voice saying softly, "Yes, Fawkes. Yes, Fawkes, I know. But not now. Perhaps never."

Harry looked down at Frodo and Sam as he lead them towards Gryffindor tower. "Keep close to me," thought Harry. "That's what Dumbledore said. Does he expect me to protect them somehow? From Voldemort? Me? I can barely protect myself." Harry thought sadly about Cedric Diggory. "I didn't do a very good job of protecting him, did I." 

They met a young red-haired girl on the stairs. "Frodo and Sam, this is Ginny Weasley, also of Gryffindor," said Harry. "Hullo, Ginny," said Frodo. Ginny gazed into his enormous blue eyes for a moment, and then did something very odd, Frodo thought. She went beet-red and started giggling uncontrollably.

"Password," the Fat Lady said.

"Nincompoop!" squeaked Ginny, and she darted through the portrait-hole into the Gryffindor common room.

"What was that?" Sam exclaimed.

"Oh, Ginny," sighed Harry. "She's like that sometimes."

"No, no, I mean the painting. It talked!"

"Oh, the painting." Harry smiled. "That's how they are at Hogwarts. This one guards the entrance to Gryffindor tower. Don't forget the password, or she'll never let you in."

They stepped into the common room, and sat down near the fire by Ron and Hermione. "What did Dumbledore say?" asked Ron.

Carefully, Harry replied, "He said that these, er, hobbits were in danger from Volde--You Know Who. That we should, we should all--stick together, look out for one another."

"What about the Ring?" asked Hermione.

"It's safe," said Frodo quickly.

"Harry?" Harry turned. A first-year girl that he knew slightly was standing next to him, beaming. Harry was willing to humor her, as he was by this time used to a certain amount of celebrity and hero-worship. 

"Yes," he said, kindly. 

"Who's your friend?" she said, coyly tilting her head. Harry realized the girl wasn't beaming at him, but at Frodo. In fact, behind her was a small group of first- and second-year girls, all looking shyly at Frodo and glancing away. They twittered quietly amongst themselves: "Look at those eyes", "Isn't he dreamy", "I'm in love." 

Frodo rose and said, "I am Frodo, son of Drogo, a hobbit of the Shire. At your service, fair maidens." He bowed low. This show of gallantry was met with giggles and peals of delight. 

"What's a Hobbit?" asked a girl.

"Well," started Frodo, "we have been called haflings, holbytla..."

"Will you go with me to the Yule Ball?" asked another girl. "It's only three months away."

Frodo stared at her. He had no response to that.


	2. The Sorcerer's Mirror

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Chapter 2: The Sorcerer's Mirror  
  
The Black Sorcerer went out into the moonless darkness, again performing what had become his nocturnal ritual for the past three months. He carried a black, smoking cauldron. "Tonight," he thought. "Tonight I shall find them, and It."  
  
Down a long flight of steps, he went into a deep, green hollow. Upon a low pedestal carved like a branching tree stood an ancient silver basin, wide and shallow, and beside it an equally ancient silver ewer. He dipped the ewer into the cauldron, and filled the basin to the brim. He breathed on it. Then he turned his eyes to the water.  
  
Stars reflected in it at first, but then went out. The black water grew grey and foggy. Then the fog cleared, and he resumed his search, again looking deep into the distant past. Then, finally, he saw them: two small figures climbing upon the brink of a sheer cliff, overlooking livid, festering marshes. To the West meandered a great river. A dark line of mountains and smoke hung in the East; intermittently a tiny red gleam flickered above it.  
  
The Sorcerer stared at one of the small figures, bending upon it every fiber of his will and concentration. For an instant-- for a brief, flickering instant he saw it: a Wheel of Fire. He reached for his wand. "Come to me," he whispered, his breath rapid and uneven. "Come to me Now."  
  
He gently touched his wand to the water, placing it upon the reflection of the figures. He pushed the tip of his wand through the water, and then brought it out sharply, crying "Veni! Veni! A Meus!" When the water became still, he looked into it again. To his great satisfaction, he saw that the figures had turned, walking into a mist. They approached a castle—and then vanished from the Sorcerer's sight.  
  
His face changed. He knew that he had successfully brought the figures and their Burden into the future. How could he not see them? And then he realized what must have happened. Through luck or some capricious trick of fate, they had materialized on the doorstep of Hogwarts. With Dumbledore. And that accursed Potter boy! Of all places on Earth for them to have appeared—the one place they would be safe from him, at least for a little while. He chucked grimly at the sheer irony of it.  
  
The chuckles turned to laughter and then to screaming.  



	3. Of Hobbits and House Elves

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Chapter 3: "Of Hobbits and House-Elves"

Hermione stood. "Shoo, shoo!" The girls scattered.  
  
"Christmas dance?" said Frodo.  
  
"Don't worry about it," Harry sighed. "You'll find out soon enough."  
  
"Begging your pardon, Mr. Harry, but we've been walking a long way, with no proper food," Sam said.  
  
"Of course," said Harry. "You must be starving."  
  
"I'll bring them down to the kitchens," said Hermione. "Can I borrow your cloak, Harry?"  
  
"Sure you'll be all right?" asked Harry and Ron together. Hermione glared at them and grabbed the cloak.   
  
They headed down the stairs. After Hermione, Frodo and Sam had passed the Fat Lady, Hermione said "All right everyone, under the cloak. We're not supposed to go about after hours, and there's an ill-tempered caretaker here named Filch, who would not take kindly to our pilfering the kitchen late at night. Of course, getting there is the hardest part. Once we're in the kitchens, the house-elves will feed you anything you like."  
  
"Elves," cried Frodo. "There are Elves here?"  
  
"Yes," said Hermione. "Well--no. Not the kind of elves you mean. Not ancient elves. These elves are...well, you'll see... Hey, Sam, watch that step."  
  
Presently the trio found themselves in the Hogwarts kitchens. Sam marveled at the size of the kitchen and the array of brightly polished pots and pans. Dobby popped out immediately and said, "Miss Hermione, Dobby is so happy to see you and your little friends. Dobby heard about our new visitors, and has a small feast ready for you!"  
  
Hermione was amazed that creatures so small could eat so much. The Hobbits refused nothing they were offered, even taking seconds and thirds. They happily stuffed pies, tarts, cream puffs, and seed cakes into their pockets.  
  
Sam, looking the picture of contentment, leaned back in his chair and said, "Many thanks, Mr. Dobby. I wish my old Gaffer were here to admire your kitchens."  
  
"Yes," said Frodo. "Now if only we had some pipe weed to aid in digestion!"  
  
"Ooooooo! Smoking is not allowed at Hogwarts," Hermione chastised.  
  
Dobby winked at the hobbits. "Come back tomorrow, small sirs."  
  
They crept back upstairs, their bellies full and outlook much brighter. "Nincompoop," whispered Hermione.   
  
As they climbed up to the Gryffindor common room, Sam asked  
"Miss Hermione, who...or what are House Elves? I mean, there were no House Elves where we came from, I think."  
  
Hermione frowned. "I'm a bit embarrassed to say so, but I really don't know."  
  
"The history of little people is often forgotten," said Frodo.  
  
Hermione said nothing, but gently patted Frodo's shoulder.   
  
They found Ron and Harry still in the common room, playing chess. Ron looked up. "Finally. You're back." Self-consciously, Hermione pulled her hand away from Frodo. "Come on, Hobbits," said Ron. "I'll show you where the boys sleep."  
  
Frodo and Sam settled into their four-poster feather beds. "We haven't slept in a decent bed like this since Rivendell," Sam sighed. "Good night, dear master."  
  
"Good night, Sam." Frodo drifted off to sleep, dreaming of Elven kings.


	4. Broomstick Ride

****

Chapter 4: "Broomstick Ride**"  
**

"Wake up sleepyheads. You don't want to miss Saturday breakfast." 

Frodo stirred slightly. He was hearing silvery Elven-song in his dream. He opened his eyes; and still covered in the cobwebs of sleep, Frodo thought the boy standing over his bed was a young son of Elrond.  
  
"Wake up," said Harry again.  
  
The Great Hall of Hogwarts has been previously described, so I will not do so here. Suffice it to say that Frodo was most impressed with the magical ceiling, which was that morning a clear, deep blue with puffy white clouds. Sam loved the ever-refilling plates. "This is what every Hobbit would want," said Sam, as he started on his third helping of sausages.  
  
Now, you might have thought that the arrival of two ancient creatures of a forgotten race, a month after the start of term would have caused a stir amongst the Hogwarts students. But since the end of the previous term there had been great and serious upheavals at Hogwarts, as a result of the return of Lord Voldemort.  
  
Actually, the school most affected was Durmstrang. Its headmaster and half its faculty had disappeared, presumably either fleeing from or going to Lord Voldemort. Hogwarts had agreed to accept the displaced Durmstrang students and those of its faculty that Dumbledore felt were trustworthy. The students were mostly absorbed into Slytherin House; fewer than half of the Slytherins had returned to Hogwarts. Ron had said, "The only good thing about Voldemort's return is that Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle are gone, and good riddance!"  
  
The new Durmstrang professors were unfamiliar and intimidating, particularly the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Dr. Schlechtes Dunkelheitzen. Professor Snape had left at the end of term last year, on an errand of Dumbledore's, and had not been expected to return. His appearance that fall had been a surprise (and, truth to tell, something of a disappointment!) to many. Rumors that Professor Lupin would return has so far proven false.   
  
The official stance of the Ministry of Magic was still that there was "no proof" that Voldemort had returned. This obstinacy had the effect of fanning fear rather than quelling it. The Wizarding world had spent the summer and early fall in agonizing suspense, waiting for Voldemort's next move.  
  
So the appearance of two small, hungry, unshod, hairy-footed, pointy-eared Hobbits generated no great interest in the Hogwarts students. They were assumed to be odd Durmstrang students, or perhaps just refugees from who knows where. As long as they weren't in league with You-Know-Who, they were welcome at Hogwarts. Some, especially the younger girls, noticed the luminous blue eyes of one of the visitors. But for the most part, the Hobbits simply blended in.  


I have Quiddich practice this morning," Harry said, rising from the table. "I was going to head over to the field to practice some new flying techniques. Want to watch?"  
  
"Quiddich?" asked Frodo.  
  
"It's a game, played on broomsticks. There's two goalposts, and two bludgers, and..." 

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the Hobbits walked out to playing field. It was a fine, crisp, early autumn day, perfect for the pre-season practice game between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor houses.  
  
Harry hopped on his broomstick and flew off into the air. Frodo gasped. He fondly remembered his Uncle Bilbo's stories about being carried by eagles. Frodo had always wanted to fly.  
  
After performing a few very demanding, but deceptively simple aerial acrobatics, Harry alighted again in front of his friends. Frodo jumped up. "Can I--I mean..."  
  
"You want to fly? Sure--it's easy." Harry put his broomstick down beside Frodo. "Just put your hand out and say 'up.'"  
  
"Up," said Frodo. Nothing happened. "Up. Up. Up!" The broomstick didn't move.  
  
Hermione looked up uncomfortably. "Um, Harry, I don't think Hobbits are..."  
  
"Magical," said Frodo sadly. He shook his head and turned to sit down again.  
  
"Wait," said Harry. "Maybe I can give you a ride." Frodo turned back, delighted. "Just sit here behind me on the broomstick--and hang on tight!" The broomstick wobbled a bit, and then rose swiftly into the air. Frodo was too excited to notice the worried look on Sam's face.  
  
Harry flew smoothly about the field at first. Frodo was terrified but exhilarated. He found he couldn't balance well enough just clutching the broomstick, so he had to hang on to Harry.  
  
"Not so tight, Frodo. I can't breathe!" Harry complained. Frodo reluctantly relaxed his grip.  
  
Something came over Harry then. Whether it was to give the Hobbit a little scare, impress his friends, or just have some fun, Harry didn't know. Perhaps it was the effect of the locket, pressed between Frodo's chest and Harry's back. But, to his lasting regret, Harry started performing some more complicated maneuvers. He didn't notice, or ignored, Frodo's tightening grip and his gasps of terror. Harry then executed his trademark Quiddich move: a steep dive, followed by a sharp pull-out inches from the ground.  
  
Frodo's nerve must have failed him then; or perhaps Hobbits simply cannot withstand large G-forces. As Harry pulled out of the dive, he felt Frodo's grip relax and then fall away. Frodo fell to the ground, senseless.   
  
Sam was at his side in an instant. Cradling Frodo's head in his arms, Sam looked up at Harry, now running towards them. "What have you done?" asked Sam, with an anguished cry.   
  
"I'll go get Madame Pomfrey," Hermione said, dashing off to the hospital wing.  
  
Ron stood and looked at Harry, but said nothing. If Harry could have descended into the depths of the earth, he would have done so immediately.  
  
"'Stick close to Harry,'" a familiar, nasty voice said. Professor Snape had walked up behind them. "Harry will protect the Hobbits, Harry will keep them safe," he sneered. "And a fine job of protecting them too, no less than I would have expected from the great Harry Potter." He spat out the name.   
  
Frodo opened his eyes. "What happened? I was falling, and--oh, my arm," Frodo cringed.  
  
"Looks broken," Snape said casually. "By the way, you dropped something."  
  
Frodo stared at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Then with a start, Frodo fumbled about his neck and realized the locket was gone. Snape dangled it over Frodo's nose, then pulled it away, just out of reach.  
  
"How careless you are with something so precious." Snape's eyes glittered as he looked at the locket. "I don't understand why Dumbledore would entrust something like this to the care of an irresponsible child and a pair of half-wit Hobbits."  
  
In an instant Snape was facing two Hobbits with drawn swords pointed at him. "Thief! Give it back!" Frodo shouted, swaying a bit as he brandished his Elven-sword, Sting. Snape raised his wand, but Harry was too quick for him.  
  
"Expelliarmus!" Snape's wand flew into Harry's outstretched hand. Frodo dropped Sting and snatched the locket. He put it over his head, and then collapsed to the ground in pain.   
  
Snape stalked over to Harry. "My wand!" Harry gave it back to him. Snape glared at him for a long, unbearable minute, and then said quietly, "For endangering the life of a Hogwarts visitor, one hundred points from Gryffindor. For interfering with a professor, fifty points. And detention."  
  
Snape turned to go. He added, over his shoulder, "What you really deserve, Harry Potter, is expulsion."  
  
For once, Harry had to agree with Snape. He had nearly killed his passenger. He had almost lost the Ring. He did deserve expulsion, or worse. He dimly heard Madame Pomfrey say, "Just a simple break, Frodo, dear. We'll have you all healed up in no time. You'll just have to stay overnight in the hospital wing." Ron and Hermione were helping with the stretcher. Harry began to walk over, but Sam's dark looks stopped him.   
  
Over the loudspeaker, Harry heard, "And Seeker for Gryffindor House, Harry Potter!" The small crowd on the other side of the field began cheering. Harry shook his head and got on his broomstick.

After the game, Harry headed over to the hospital wing. "How could I have been so careless, so stupid," he wondered. "I heard him cry out. Why didn't I put him down?" Harry found Frodo awake, in bed, talking to Professor Dumbledore. He looked up and said, "Ah, Harry. How did the game go? I hear you took Frodo on a bit of a wild ride this morning."

Harry hung his head. "I'm so dreadfully sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"Hmm. Perhaps something did indeed come over you," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "I wonder…"

"Do not trouble yourself too much, Harry," said Frodo. "Most of it was great fun, actually. I pretended I was riding on the back of an eagle." Frodo turned to Dumbledore. "You've done that, Gandalf, and so has Uncle Bilbo." Frodo sighed. "I suppose Harry's broomstick is the closest I'll ever come to eagle-flying, don't you think?" Dumbledore smiled indulgently at Frodo, but did not reply. 

"How's your arm?" Harry asked.

"The break is healed. Madame Pomfrey's skills rival those of the Elves—the Elves of old, I mean. She says she will release me from the house of healing tomorrow, but I am of a mind to leave well before then. Hullo, Sam, have you got it?"

Sam had just walked in, bearing a small pouch and a conspiratorial grin. "Yes, I've got it here. Good, by the smell of it. Very obliging, these House-Elves." Sam then pulled out two very long-stemmed pipes, and handed one to Frodo. Dumbledore laughed; and then, to Harry's surprise, pulled from his robes a pipe of his own.

"It's been a long time," said Dumbledore. "I had given it up. But why not, amongst old friends."

Harry left the hospital wing in much better spirits than when he entered. He left the trio of friends to blow smoke rings and talk of old times. Presently he heard the sound of Madame Pomfrey's high-pitched scolding. Harry whistled a tune and headed towards Gryffindor.


	5. I Hate Spiders

****

Chapter 5: "I Hate Spiders"  
  
Later that afternoon, Harry found Frodo and Sam sitting on the front lawn of Hogwarts, lazily blowing smoke-rings. "I see your plan for early discharge from Hospital worked," grinned Harry.  
  
"Yes, indeed," Frodo replied. "The pipe-weed did the trick. We were thrown out immediately. Although I fear I've made an enemy of Madame Pomfrey. I suppose I should not go riding about on broomsticks any time soon!" Harry winced; then seeing Frodo's face, laughed.  
  
"I'm sure you two are looking forward to an evening of dinner with ever- refilling plates, but I wanted to tell you that we're invited to dine tonight with a good friend of ours. His house is on the grounds."  
  
Frodo puffed on his pipe. "We would be delighted." Harry nodded and went on his way.  
  
Frodo closed his eyes and leaned back on the lawn. The crisp morning had given way to a pleasant, Indian summer afternoon. The sun warmed his face and his feet. "I am content, Sam," he said, eyes still closed. "I know I should not be, for our Quest may still lie ahead. But in truth, I welcome this reprieve. Put away in this locket, the Ring seems light. Indeed, I hardly feel it."  
  
"As I've said, feels a bit like Rivendell. Leastways the food and the bedding," added Sam.  
  
"And the company," said Frodo. "These children are the descendants of Elves, after all." Frodo opened his eyes. "I feel that great temptation again. To stop here, I mean. Not to go on. To leave the Ring to others."  
  
"Well, we do seem to be stuck here for now, Mr. Frodo," said Sam. "Nowhere to go. No choices to make except for what to eat. But you know that wherever you go in the end, I will go too."  
  
Frodo couldn't say anything for a little while. Then—"Of course, if we stayed here, that would mean never seeing the Shire again. Not that we would see it again anyway, even if we resumed the Quest."  
  
Sam sat up on his elbows and gazed at Frodo. "One way to find out, sir."

  
"What do you mean?" asked Frodo, puzzled.  
  
"Miss Hermione, last night when we ran into her," said Sam. "She said something about a 'Red Book.' Said she'd read about hobbits. Seemed to know your name. I reckon this might be the same Red Book your uncle Bilbo was working on. Maybe we could take a peek, see what's in store for us, if you follow me."  
  
That evening, Frodo and Sam met up with Harry, Ron and Hermione. They walked down the grounds and approached a stone cottage. Sam chatted merrily with Ron; suddenly he looked up and froze. "Giant!" he cried. "Giant! Run! He'll eat us! Save yourselves! Frodo!"  
  
"Oooooh, honestly!" called Hermione, reproachfully. "There's no need to be rude, Sam! This is Hagrid. He's our groundskeeper and professor." By that time, Frodo and Sam had put a significant distance between themselves and Hagrid. They came trotting back, apologetically.  
  
"'Ere, don't worry," said Hagrid, extending a large hand. "I'm no giant. Not a full giant, leastways. Not going to eat you. Come inside."  
  
Ron turned to the Hobbits, "When Hagrid said he wanted to have you for dinner, he didn't mean he really wanted to Have You For Dinner!"  
  
"That's enough, Ron," said Hermione.  
  
"Anyway, the likes of you wouldn't be more than a mouthful for Hagrid…"  
  
"RON!!"  
  
Hagrid, from the Hobbit point of view, proved to be a gracious host, but an poor cook. They were happy to have had their full complement of hobbit meals that day (five). The ambience left something to be desired as well, as three astonishingly large spiders decided to intrude upon dessert.  
  
"I hate spiders," said Ron, cringing. Sam reached forward and picked one of them up off the table. It was as big as his palm. He presented it to Ron, doubtless thinking Ron would appreciate a closer look. He did not. "Get it away from me!"  
  
"It's not that big," said Sam. "Nothing to be afraid of, not for a big man-child like yourself. Now Mr. Frodo's uncle Bilbo, he ran into some really big spiders in dark Mirkwood forest. Slew them single-handedly, he did."  
  
"Oh, we have some really big spiders here in the Enchanted Forest, if you'd like to see them," said Harry.  
  
"We shall take your word for it," said Frodo quickly. Hagrid opened the window and lightly tossed the spiders out. "What course do you teach at Hogwarts, Hagrid?"  
  
"Care of Magical Creatures," Hagrid replied.  
  
"Magical creatures?" asked Sam. "What sort of magical creatures? Any oliphaunts?"  
  
"No, no oliphaunts. Not after what happened last time," said Hagrid sadly. "Flubberworms, grindylows, hippogryffs, manticores, unicorns, blast-ended scroots…"  
  
"Unicorns!" Sam cried. "I'd love to see a unicorn."  
  
"There's one out back," Hagrid said. "But he won't let you get too close, I expect." They all went outside. To Hagrid's surprise, the unicorn not only allowed Sam to approach, but also bowed its head and actually nuzzled him. "Odd," said Hagrid. "Fully-grown unicorns generally won't let a young man like yourself come near them."  
  
"But I am not a Man," said Sam.  
  
The company returned to the Gryffindor common room in high spirits. They were greeted by the Weasley twins.  
  
"Sam and Frodo, meet my brothers, Fred and George," said Ron.  
  
"Oh, hullo," said Fred.  
  
"So you're the new Gryffindors. Frodo is it?" asked George. "You must be the one all the first-year girls are in love with."  
  
"Can't see why," added Fred.  
  
"I…" started Frodo.  
  
"Back from dinner with Hagrid?" asked Fred.  
  
"Delicious, no doubt," said George.  
  
"Still hungry?" Fred asked.  
  
"Maybe a little bit," admitted Sam.  
  
"We've got just the thing! Have a canary cream," offered George.  
  
"No, don't!" Harry interrupted.  
  
"Why not?" asked Frodo, eyeing the succulent pastry.  
  
"Because it'll turn you into a molting fowl," said Neville Longbottom, in a manner indicating long experience.  
  
"Oh, you're no fun at all!" cried Fred.  
  
"Really pathetic," added George.  
  
"This is Neville," said Ron.  
  
"We've met," Frodo said. He and Sam had found Neville standing outside the Fat Lady earlier that day, unable to recall the password.  
  
"Here, try these if you're still hungry," offered Harry. "They're Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans."  
  
"Every flavor? What flavor is this?" asked Frodo, pulling a bean from the offered package.  
  
"Oh, that one," said Harry. "I don't really know; it tastes good, even makes you feel good all over. But I've never been able to identify it."  
  
Frodo tasted it and his eyes went wide. "Lembas!"


	6. The Red Book

****

Chapter 6: "The Red Book"

Frodo slept fitfully that night, troubled by dreams that he could not recall. He awoke early and headed downstairs to the Gryffindor common room, where he found Hermione sitting by the fire, her schoolbooks laid out in front of her, her quill scratching away at an essay.  
  
"Good morning, Frodo," she said, looking up from her work.  
  
He sat down next to her. "Hermione, I must ask you something. When we first met, night before last, you mentioned that you had once read about Hobbits, and that you were acquainted with my name. You spoke of a 'Red Book.'"  
  
Hermione looked down. She had been expecting this question. She knew what the Red Book was, and felt that it wouldn't be a good idea for Frodo to see it. She had planned to dissemble, to tell Frodo the Red Book wasn't at Hogwarts, that it didn't contain any useful information, that it actually had nothing to do with him.  
  
"Would it be possible for me to see it?" Frodo asked. Hermione started to speak--but then she found his gaze utterly disarming. His eyes seemed to look through her; and at the same time, laid his own soul bare. She could neither lie to him, nor deny him.  
  
"It's in the library," she said.  
  
In the Ancient Manuscripts section, she led him to a glass case. In it was a very old book. The cover had gone brown with age, but hints of red could still be seen. It was too fragile to handle, so the book had been enchanted; the folio pages flipped magically at the reader's thought. Frodo looked at it and trembled slightly. "My Uncle Bilbo wrote this, didn't he?"  
  
"Part of it," answered Hermione.  
  
"Who wrote the rest?"  
  
"You did, Frodo. And Sam, a little bit."  
  
Frodo opened the front cover and gazed at the title page:  


**THE DOWNFALL OF THE LORD OF THE RINGS  
AND THE RETURN OF THE KING**

It was written in a strong, flowing script. He saw that other titles, obviously in his Uncle Bilbo's spidery hand, had been crossed out. He sat down and began to read. Hermione watched him for a little while, and then couldn't bear it anymore. She left him alone in the library, and sadly made her way back to Gryffindor.  
  
Hermione spent the day alone in the Gryffindor common room, staring at her books. Somehow the fine autumn day did not hold quite the allure for her that it had for the other Gryffindors. She also had no desire to return to the library.  
  
"Hermione," said a light voice.  
  
She jumped. "Frodo! I didn't hear you come in." She looked into his troubled eyes, and her heart sank. "Poor, poor Frodo," she thought. "I left you alone in there, reading about the horrors you'll face if we send you back."  
  
"I think there's been some mistake," said Frodo. "Perhaps there was another book you were thinking of."  
  
"What?" said Hermione.  
  
"The book you showed me was indeed started by my Uncle Bilbo; but neither Sam nor I finished it. It was completed by my kinsman Meriadoc Brandybuck. It detailed our journey up until Sam and I crossed the Anduin alone. It says that neither of us were ever heard from again; but as Mordor collapsed shortly thereafter, it was assumed that we had been successful in our Quest."  
  
"What about the War of the Ring?" asked Hermione.  
  
"War of the Ring?" asked Frodo.  
  
"The great battles," said Hermione. "What about Helm's Deep? The Battle of Pelennor Fields? The Battle at the Gate?"  
  
"There was no mention of such battles."  
  
Hermione stared at Frodo for a moment. "Frodo," she said, slowly. "Do you realize what this means?" He shook his head. "The past is changed. By coming here and bringing the ring to the future—you saved Middle Earth. Sauron fell. Your Quest was completed, though not in the way you had intended."  
  
"But the Ring still exists!" cried Frodo.  
  
"You took it upon yourself to save Middle Earth. You did! This world, the world of the future, is neither your concern nor your responsibility. Let others figure out how to deal with the Ring. Stay here with us if you like. Or, if we figure out how to send you, go back and leave the Ring behind." She knelt before him and folded him in her arms.  
  
Frodo closed his eyes and rested his head against the neck of this young woman, this magical Elf-child. He felt warm and secure in her embrace. How desperately he wanted to believe her.


	7. The Orb of Madame Trelawney

****

Chapter 7: "The Orb of Madame Trelawney"  
  
That night, Frodo dreamt that he was standing on a precipice. He had come here to do something important, but he could not remember what it was. Hermione was there, telling him he had finished his task. Still Frodo stood, frozen, unable to make a decision. Suddenly something pounced on his chest. Frodo awoke with a start. Two enormous eyes were shining at him in the moonlight. Frodo screamed.  
  
"Frodo!" cried Sam and Harry, simultaneously jumping to either side of Frodo's bed.  
  
"Gollum!" gasped Frodo.  
  
"Purrrrrrr."  
  
Harry magically lit a candle. A large, ginger cat was sitting on Frodo's chest, purring contentedly. "Crookshanks, scat!" cried Harry. The cat shot him a reproachful look, then delicately leapt off Frodo's chest. It padded away, waving its bottle-brush tail in the air.  
  
"Hermione's wretched cat!" scowled Ron, sitting up in bed. "It likes to do that. Going to give someone a heart attack one of these days."  
  
Frodo flopped back into bed, his heart racing. It took him a very long time to get to sleep again, so he slept well into the morning.  
  
Harry and Ron did not have that luxury. Their first class was their least-favorite, Potions, taught by the ever-unpleasant Professor Severus Snape. He was particularly ill-tempered that morning, perhaps remembering the events of Saturday morning, two days ago, when Harry had had to disarm him so that Frodo could take back the Ring. Snape had taken one hundred fifty points from Gryffindor that day and given Harry a detention, which he had served all day Sunday. But Snape was not appeased. By the end of the class, Gryffindor had lost twenty more points, and Harry had another detention.  
  
Divination, their second-least-favorite class was next. Harry climbed the rope ladder leading to the trap-door entrance to Madame Trelawney's classroom. As usual, it was dark, warm, and stifling with the scent of sweetly perfumed incense. Harry threw his schoolbooks down, still furious about Professor Snape. He very nearly knocked over the two crystal balls on his desk.  
  
"Oh, Harry." The voice of Madame Trelawney floated across the classroom. "Do not yield to negative emotions like anger. Your time with us is so very short. You should enjoy what little life is left to you." She walked over to Harry, her face streaming with tears. "Oh, Harry, Harry. I have seen it in the signs. Your time is drawing near. You will leave us tonight!"  
  
This made Harry even angrier. One of the reasons he disliked Divination was that Madame Trelawney had been predicting his imminent demise for years. "Right," he said. "What about last year? And the year before? You said I would die then, and I'm still here."  
  
"You have avoided your fate, it is true. This can happen a few times, but not forever," she went on, in her usual, irritatingly dreamy way. "Harry, this time you will not escape. You will willingly seek out your doom! Oh!" She wrung her hands together, and wept as she wafted back to her desk.  
  
It took her several minutes to compose herself. Then she said, "Class, today we shall be gazing into the crystal orbs. Free your minds and allow the portents of the future to enter in." Harry and Ron each looked at their orbs.  
  
"I see a lot of fog," sniggered Ron. "This must be a weather-predicting orb."  
  
"Mine's predicting wind, rain…and a lot of hot air," Harry said, glancing over at Madame Trelawney. Ron snorted.  
  
Harry sighed and returned his gaze to the orb. He stared at the swirling fog within; it seemed to be beginning to take shape, although it remained maddeningly out of focus. He started to develop a slight headache. Still he looked harder, and then began to recognize a faint outline: a face. Presently he saw that it was his own face. He appeared to be asleep. He was lying on the floor. A tall man stood beside him. The man was holding something in his outstretched hand; Harry couldn't make out what it was.  
  
Harry's headache grew stronger. His scar began to burn. But he continued to stare at the image of the man in the orb, continued to stare at what the man was holding. He felt himself drawn to it, unable to break away. The object in the tall man's hand seemed to be looking back out at him. It was…an eye! A lidless eye that seemed to burn. Likewise, the burning in Harry's forehead intensified, but still he could not look away. Harry then began to hear a voice; someone—or something was trying to speak to him.  
  
"Who are you?" the voice said. It spoke with malice, with malevolence, and with great power.  
  
Harry felt compelled to answer. But before he could, his scar exploded with pain, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.  
  
"Harry! Harry! Don't leave us! Come back. Come back into the light." Harry opened his eyes. Madame Trelawney was crouching beside him, stroking his face.  
  
"I'm fine," he said, getting up quickly. He looked over to his desk. In a rare display of good sense, Madame Trelawney had picked up Harry's orb and shut it away in a cupboard.  
  
"What did you see, child?" she asked, consolingly. "Did you see…did you see your…"  
  
"No!" said Harry, angrily. "I didn't see anything. I just fainted. It's the heat and the incense. All I need is some fresh air."  
  
Madame Trelawney dismissed her class then, and Harry and Ron headed for the Great Hall. They found Frodo and Sam there already. The Hobbits had apparently made it into the Hall for a late breakfast which had stretched into lunchtime. Hermione joined them all a short while later.  
  
"How was your morning?" asked Hermione. She was by this time taking so many advanced classes that her schedule did not overlap with Harry's and Ron's very much.  
  
"Rotten!" snapped Harry. "Snape gave me a detention for absolutely no reason. Said I wasn't paying attention."  
  
"And then Harry passed out in Divination," added Ron.  
  
"What?" cried Hermione.  
  
"I don't want to talk about it," said Harry.  
  
"Looking on the bright side," said Ron quickly, "I just heard that all of our afternoon classes are cancelled. Anyone know why?"  
  
"There is to be a Wizard's council, I believe," said Frodo.  
  
"It has to do with something Frodo and I discovered yesterday. Some changes in a…historical book. Frodo and Sam may not have to go back," said Hermione.  
  
"Really?" said Ron. "That's great! But I guess you want to go home at some point, right?"  
  
Frodo didn't say anything, but kept eating.  
  
"You know, I continue to be amazed at how much Hobbits can eat," said Hermione. "It must have something to do with their large surface-to-area ratio, and heightened metabolism due to..."  
  
"Hermione!" said Ron.


	8. The Council of Dumbledore

****

Chapter 8: "The Council of Dumbledore"  
  
"Thank you all for coming here today on such short notice," Dumbledore said, glancing around the Hogwarts council chamber. Many Witches and Wizards were sitting around a stone semicircular table. Frodo and Sam were seated in chairs at the center. "May I introduce members of the Hogwarts faculty, Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Snape, and Sprout. Also our new Defense against the Dark Arts professor, lately of Durmstrang School, Professor Schlechtes Dunkelheitzen. We welcome Madame Maxime, from Beaubaton Witchcraft and Wizarding School in France. We also welcome our representative New World Wizards, Messieurs Gates and Lucas. Everyone knows Mr. Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. And may I present to you our honored guests, Frodo Baggins and his servant Samwise Gamgee.  
  
"We all know the history chronicled in the Baggins' Red Book. You have been briefed about the appearance of these Hobbits and the One Ring on the grounds of Hogwarts. But what led me to call this council was a piece of disturbing information brought to my attention by a Hogwarts student. In short, the Red Book has changed. It now records that Frodo and Sam were lost after leaving the Fellowship, but Mordor fell soon after. The War of the Ring never happened.  
  
"There is a discrepancy between what we remember reading, and what the Red Book now records. This represents a very serious Time Anomaly. There is a significant chance that we will not be able to send Frodo, Sam and the Ring back. So we are now straddling two divergent and likely timelines: one, in which Frodo and Sam destroy the Ring in the Third Age, and two, in which they bring the Ring here and it stays here.  
  
"The first question we have to answer is, who brought the Ring here and how?" Dumbledore sat down.  
  
Professor Dunkelheitzen said, "You-Know-Who is the prime suspect, I believe. But I do not know how he did it."  
  
"I do not know if dis eez relevant, but some very early Gallic artifacts were stolen from ze Louvre about ze time You-Know-'oo eez said to have returned," said Madame Maxime. "A seelver ewer and basin. Dese artifacts were considered to possess great, ancient mageecal power."  
  
"I must remind you that it is the official position of the Ministry of Magic that there is no evidence that You-Know-Who has returned," said Cornelius Fudge.  
  
"Yes, Cornelius. We are all aware of the Ministry's _official_ position," said Dumbledore, regarding the Minister of Magic with an expression of reproachful disappointment. "Madame Maxime, perhaps you can investigate the nature of these artifacts more closely. The next question is whether we should send the Hobbits back with the Ring.  
  
Professor McGonagall said, "It is certainly very convenient for us that this Ring has come to us accompanied by Hobbits willing to bring it back. But is it ethical of us to allow them to do this? We have a responsibility as Witches and Wizards to protect the weak, to protect Muggles. We can't just let Frodo and Sam go off to Mordor because that's the easiest and most convenient thing for us to do. Our magic is different; it may be more powerful than the Elvish magic of old. You have successfully applied a shielding charm to the Ring. Perhaps we can find a way to diffuse and dispel its power, rather than leading these poor Hobbits to the…" She trailed off and looked at Frodo and Sam. "Rather than making them go back, if they don't want to."  
  
"If the Hobbits do not wish to return, we cannot in good conscience force them to," said Dumbledore.  
  
"Agreed," said Cornelius Fudge. "In addition, we may not want to send the Ring back at all. We could potentially use it to do good. I reiterate, there is no hard evidence that You-Know-Who has returned; but if he were to return, this Ring would give us a powerful means of fighting him."  
  
Snape stirred and said, "Evil is easiest to fight when it is dark and terrifying. But evil can also be beautiful. It comes in many disguises, and is most tempting when you agree with some of what it says." Snape turned to the company. "Why do you think You-Know-Who…Lord Voldemort has so many supporters?" The assembled Witches and Wizards trembled at hearing the Dark Lord's name spoken aloud. Snape surveyed them all, and then went on, "Why do you think I followed him, once? Are all his supporters purely evil? Do they knowingly choose evil over good?  
  
"Many wizards have long yearned for our proper place on earth. Instead of hiding from muggles, and being constrained to ever-smaller parts of the earth, we should assume our role as rulers. So much suffering could be relieved in the Muggle world with proper guidance and order." Many wizards in the company straightened up at this. Cornelius Fudge even nodded his head slightly. Snape went on, "This is what Voldemort told his Death Eaters." Fudge stopped nodding.  
  
"Lord Voldemort tempts not only with power. He also promises the return of beauty. He speaks of the destruction of the ugly Muggle cities, and returning the Muggles to a peaceful, simple, agrarian society, free from war and hate. He yearns for the cleansing of the air and the water. He vows to return the world back to a time of natural innocence.  
  
"But there is always a dark side to such Utopian visions. There are too many Muggles to be able to return them to a rural life. Most would be killed. 'We will spare the best, the brightest, the fairest,' Voldemort told us. In other words, genocide, both for Muggles and any Wizards who stood in his way.  
  
"Lord Voldemort offered powerful temptations to his Death Eaters on a…" Here Snape faltered slightly; but then went on, "…on a personal level as well. Now the Ring is calling to you all in the same manner that Lord Voldemort did. We are all in gravest danger, of falling victim to our own good intentions, of yielding to temptation without even being aware of it. Professor McGonagall, you are searching for a solution that will make you feel good about yourself. The Ring is calling to you, to all of you, telling you that you are good and powerful; that you can protect these Hobbits; that you are capable of controlling the Ring. But I say to you, that way lies disaster!" Snape rose from his chair, his eyes flashing. "They must go back. They must take the Ring. It is not a nice solution, but it is the right one." Snape sat down again, heavily.  
  
"Is there no other way?" asked Professor McGonagall. "Could the Ring be destroyed? "What about Dragon fire?"  
  
"It is true that Dragon fire of old might have been able to destroy the Ring," said Dumbledore. "But our modern Dragons are, by comparison, mere overgrown lizards. I doubt their fire would be either strong or magical enough."  
  
"What about dropping it in a different volcano? Or deep into the ocean? Or in a nuclear reactor? Or into outer space?" asked the other New World Wizard, Mr. Lucas.  
  
"This Ring is such that mere heat, even extreme heat, is not enough to destroy it," said Dumbledore, wearily. "As for casting it into the ocean or outer space, I must reiterate what I said at another Council: we must look after future generations. The Ring has a way of being found. I suspect it would fall to Earth again, or wash ashore if we tried to cast it away."  
  
Dumbledore then stood and formally addressed Frodo and Sam. "Frodo son of Drogo, Baggins, Hobbit of the Shire, Ringbearer. Long ago, by our reckoning, and a few months ago by yours, you attended the Council of Elrond, and there you volunteered to take the One Ring to Mordor, to destroy it at Mount Doom. Samwise Gamgee, you volunteered to follow and aid Frodo. Again, Frodo, you face another Council. Three choices are laid before you. You may remain here until the end of your days, believing that your quest to save Middle Earth is complete. Second, you may return to the Third Age, and leave the Ring here with us. Third, you may return, bearing the Ring, and continue on your Quest. What say you, Frodo Baggins?"  
  
Frodo closed his eyes and thought about his few short days at Hogwarts. He thought about Harry and Ron. About Hagrid. He thought about Hermione. She had said to him, "You took it upon yourself to save Middle Earth. You did! This world of the future is neither your concern nor your responsibility. Let others figure out how to deal with the Ring. Stay here with us if you like." She had knelt before him and embraced him. "Let others deal with the Ring…stay here with us…"  
  
Frodo opened his eyes. "I see no great difference between Middle Earth and this world. There are beautiful things in it. I will continue my Quest, and take the Ring to Mordor."  
  
"And I will come with you," said Sam.  
  
Dumbledore bowed his head for a moment. Then, with a quiet voice he said, "We must now turn our attention to the problem of returning the Hobbits to the Third Age."  
  
"Perhaps we could use a Time-Turner," said Professor Flitwick.  
  
"A reasonable thought," said Dumbledore. "It would have to be much more powerful and precise than the usual sort of Time-Turner. Mr. Gates, would you be willing to help Professor Flitwick with this?" The New World Wizard nodded.  
  
"I have one other concern," said Cornelius Fudge. "This Ring is a significant target. It and the Hobbits should be guarded more securely than you can manage, Albus. I would favor housing them and the Ring in Azkaban until they can be sent back."  
  
"I do appreciate your concerns, Cornelius," replied Dumbledore, gazing intensely at Fudge. "But Azkaban is entirely out of the question. It is no place for Hobbits. They are safe here. The Ring is shielded in a locket that cannot be stolen magically. Even if it were taken by physical force, the locket itself can only be opened by a Hobbit, and then only voluntarily, not under the influence of a controlling spell. It is not a permanent solution, Minerva," added Dumbledore, seeing Professor McGonagall's raised eyebrows, "but it offers enough security for the Ring for us to be able to forego Azkaban."  
  
"I suspected you might feel that way, Albus," murmured Fudge, with an odd smile.  
  
"If there is no further business, this council is adjourned," said Dumbledore.


	9. A Walk in the Forest

****

Chapter 9: "A Walk in the Forest"  
  
Frodo and Sam watched the assembled Witches and Wizards file out of the Council Chamber. Frodo watched Snape particularly; he seemed to be very tired. Suddenly he turned and gave Frodo a malevolent stare, his black eyes glittering. Frodo shuddered, involuntarily.  
  
"Come along, dears," said Professor McGonagall, appearing at their side. "Let's go back to Gryffindor."  
  
Frodo replied, "We were thinking of going to the Great Hall for teatime. Hobbits eat…"  
  
"A lot. I know. Run along then," laughed McGonagall.  
  
But on the way to the Great Hall, Sam stopped and said, "Mr. Frodo, I reckon it won't be too much longer before they figure out how to send us back. I'd really like to see Mr. Hagrid's unicorn again, maybe some of his other magical creatures too, before we go. Fancy another trip down to his cottage?"  
  
Smiling, Frodo agreed. On their way, they ran into Harry. "You shouldn't go about the grounds unaccompanied," he said. "I can go with you, but I'm due for detention in an hour." 

A professor that Frodo recognized from the Council seemed to overhear them; a dark man with an intimidating manner, he stopped and peered at the trio strangely. However, this professor did not interfere; in fact he walked off briskly as if he had just remembered a forgotten errand.

"Who is that?" asked Frodo, watching the professor leave. Harry sighed. "Professor Dunkelheitzen, our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." More quietly, Harry added, "He's a little strange; glad he didn't ask us any questions. Come on."  
  
Harry, Frodo, and Sam made their way to Hagrid's house. They found Hagrid out in front. "Oh…" said Hagrid, greeting Harry and the Hobbits. "Sorry. Tha' unicorn's gone, now. It was just here for a little while, recoverin' from a small wound." Seeing Sam's crestfallen face, Hagrid went on, "But they're about in the forest. If yeh'd like to take a little walk, I'm sure we could find another one."  
  
"I'm not sure this is such a good idea," cautioned Harry, as they walked out towards the forest.  
  
"We'll just stay on the outskirts of the forest, Harry," said Hagrid. "Oh, Sam, there's one!" A unicorn pranced by them in a flash of silvery-white. Sam took off running into the forest after the unicorn, with Frodo close behind.  
  
"Stop!" cried Harry. He and Hagrid tried to follow, but the forest suddenly became very thick and tangled. Harry couldn't see where the Hobbits had gone. A bed of fallen leaves and pine needles seemed to muffle every sound.  
  
"Let's split up," said Harry to Hagrid. "You search east of here, I'll search west." 

Alone now, Harry picked his way through the dense undergrowth. He saw something white in the distance, obscured by trees. Drawing nearer, he saw a unicorn, bent low. He could just make out the outline of two Hobbits standing next to it. "Hey!" cried Harry, crashing towards them. "Idiots! Don't run off into the forest like that. Not all of the creatures here are friendly."  
  
"Sorry, Mr. Harry," said Sam, rising and walking towards Harry. "We're fine, really…" Then, suddenly, Sam flew into the air. An enormous, long, black, hairy leg had grabbed him and lifted him up. That leg belonged to a gigantic spider, a creature Harry had first met a few years before.  
  
"Aragog!" Harry cried. "Put him down!"  
  
Then Harry realized this was not Aragog; it was not blind. And it was in no mood for conversation. "One of Aragog's children," thought Harry, grimly. "Drat Hagrid and his 'interesting creatures.'" The spider carefully wrapped Sam's struggling body in fine silk. Frodo, weeping and cursing, drew Sting and tried to charge the giant spider; Harry could barely hold him back. Harry drew his wand. "Impedimentus!" he cried. But the curse bounced harmlessly off the spider's dense, hairy hide. The spider hung the now- cocooned body of Sam high in a tree, and turned to face Harry.  
  
Harry, nearly panicked with fright, remembered a spell he had used last year to complete one of his tasks in the Tri-Wizard Competition. Harry lifted his wand. "Accio Firebolt," he cried. In an instant, Harry's broomstick was in his hand. "Get on behind me," he said to Frodo. Frodo hesitated, mindful of his last experience on a broomstick. Then Harry heard rustling in the trees behind them. More spiders were on their way.  
  
"Get on now!" cried Harry. "You have to!" With a small gasp of terror, Frodo jumped on the broomstick.  
  
Harry rose into the air, coming to eye-level with the spider. It grabbed at him with an enormous arm; Harry just dodged out of the way. Frodo's extra weight put him off balance a bit on the broomstick. Staying just out of reach of the spider, Harry tried to draw it off. When he felt they had gotten the spider far enough away, Harry turned back. The spider was not at all fooled. It whirled about instantly and gave chase, grasping at them with its many legs.  
  
Other spiders, at least ten of them, came out of the woods and joined the chase, climbing into the surrounding trees and jumping out at Harry and Frodo, trying to ensnare them with strands of sticky silk. Weaving and whirling and bobbing, constantly changing direction, Harry flew to the tree where Sam was hanging. "Draw your sword," Harry cried.  
  
Frodo was utterly terrified, both of the spiders and the broomstick. He was clinging desperately to Harry with both hands; to release one hand to draw Sting required every bit of courage that he had. But he did draw Sting, and as they flew by, Frodo cut the silken cord from which Sam was hanging. Sam dropped and Harry dove, down, fast on the broomstick. He pulled up abruptly and caught Sam in his arms. The broomstick wobbled and dropped several feet. Frodo groaned.  
  
"It's all right, I'll put you two down the second we get out of the forest," Harry said, speeding away from the angry spiders. But then Harry felt a sudden shiver. He felt cold and sick. He was losing control of the broomstick; it started to pitch and sway. Harry could hear Frodo crying out with fear. More ominously, Frodo's grip began to loosen. Harry knew he had to land immediately, even though they hadn't quite reached the forest edge.  
  
They landed in a small clearing. With a sick, sinking feeling, Harry realized why he felt so cold. Dementors! Everywhere! "And I am already weary," Harry thought. He raised his wand and tried to think of the happiest thing he could; it was not easy. "Expecto patronus!" he cried. A silvery shape glided out of his wand. It held the Dementors back momentarily, but they pressed in further. Harry looked down. Sam was still wrapped up in spider silk. Frodo was swooning and writhing in agony, clutching at his shoulder.  
  
And then, to Harry's surprise, a unicorn stepped into the clearing. "Unicorn!" gasped Harry. "This is all your fault!" He approached the beast; it backed away. "Oh, unicorn! I know you don't like boys; but you liked these Hobbits. Please carry them out of the forest. I can't protect them for much longer." The unicorn bowed and suffered Harry to put Frodo and Sam across its back. It lightly and carefully pranced away. The Dementors seemed to avoid it.  
  
Harry, alone now in the clearing, raised his wand again. "Expecto patronus," came out weakly, a mere whisper. His silvery patronus dissipated quickly. Harry staggered, then fell. Mist and fog overcame him. He heard screaming: the voice of his mother begging Lord Voldemort to spare his life. 'No, not Harry, not Harry!' A Dementor approached him and began to lift its hood.  
  
"Here, tha' won' do at all!" Hagrid had just run into the clearing. He seized Harry's wand and bellowed, "Expecto patronus!" An enormous silver patronus in the shape of a three-headed dog came charging out of the wand. The Dementors scattered. "Nasty buggers," Hagrid said, helping Harry up. "What are they doin' here at Hogwarts, that's what I'd like teh know!"  
  
As the unicorn bore the Hobbits away from the Dementors, Frodo regained consciousness. He groaned and rubbed his shoulder. The unicorn stopped just at the forest edge and bowed. Frodo jumped off, and lowered Sam down. Drawing Sting, Frodo cut Sam's silken bonds. "Are you all right, Sam?" he cried, anxiously. Sam moaned in answer. He couldn't walk; the spider had poisoned him. Frodo tried vainly to carry him.  
  
"Frodo, Sam!" called a somewhat familiar voice. "Are you injured? Can I help?" A Wizard in pin-striped robes and a lime-green bowler hat dashed over to them. Frodo looked up and recognized him. It was Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.  
  
"Yes, thank you!" cried Frodo, nearly weeping with relief. "We were in the forest and a great spider tried to eat us. It caught Sam. It poisoned him. And then these creatures came, wraith-like creatures, all around us. And then everything was fog and darkness. I thought I was on Weathertop again. I felt the Nazgul wound!" Frodo clutched at his shoulder in anguish.  
  
"Well I believe this proves once and for all that you are not safe here at Hogwarts. Dumbledore has been most careless, I'm afraid. I've come, actually, to take you to Azkaban, which is a much more secure place for you. No giant spiders there at all," said Fudge. Frodo felt cold again; he looked up and saw that a group of Dementors had assembled behind Fudge.  
  
Frodo did not know what Azkaban was, but from Dumbledore's reaction at the council he supposed it was not a nice place. He also guessed there were Dementors there. With the last of his strength, he tried to run away. Fudge waved his wand and said, "_Stupefy_!" Both Hobbits collapsed, unconscious, on the ground. Fudge tucked one under each arm and walked briskly down the grounds and out the Hogwarts gate, with the Dementors following. Then he vanished.  



	10. In the Dungeons of Azkaban

****

Chapter 10: "In the Dungeons of Azkaban"  
  
Frodo couldn't tell whether he was sleeping or waking. He had no sense of time; he could have been there an hour—a year—he could not tell. All he saw was misty and dark. His old Nazgul wound ached. He felt total hopelessness. He did not long for escape; what was there to escape to? He didn't know. Everything seemed pointless. He had difficulty remembering anything: why he was there, where he had come from. Where was here? There was no there, there. A vast nothingness enveloped him. Fog and despair. Who was he? What was his name?  
  
"Frodo!" a voice whispered urgently.  
  
"Who?" asked Frodo dreamily.  
  
"Frodo, wake up!" hissed the voice, urgently. "I've come to get you out of here." The door to Frodo's cell opened, and a tall, middle-aged, blond man stepped in. "Come on, get up!"  
  
Frodo could hardly stand, much less walk. The man picked Frodo up and put him over his shoulder. Two Dementors flanked him.  
  
"Dementors…" said Frodo, weakly.  
  
"Don't worry. They're on our side," said the man, curtly.  
  
"What about Sam?" asked Frodo, coming back to life slightly.  
  
"We're working on getting Sam out legally," said the man, as he carried Frodo out. "But rescuing you is the highest priority, for now. You can trust me," he added. "I am working with Albus Dumbledore."  
  
The two flanking Dementors that had come with the man glided over to the main guard station. They communicated somehow with the other Dementor guards. There seemed to be a long discussion. The man put Frodo down and watched uneasily.  
  
Frodo, regaining his presence of mind somewhat, felt about his neck for the locket. It was there. Turning away from the man, Frodo surreptitiously opened the locket just a crack, enough to see the glint of gold within. He shut it again instantly.  
  
Finally, the two Dementors glided back. "They believed it. Thank goodness," said the man, hoisting up Frodo again, and walking quickly down the main hall and out the front door.  
  
"How did you…" asked Frodo.  
  
"The Azkaban Dementors think I am bringing you to a secret trial, and that my two Dementors are your guards. It's best if you don't ask me too many more questions."  
  
They passed through the Azkaban gate. The man halted, and shifted his grip on Frodo. "Now Frodo, see here," he said. "This is going to be a little strange. I need to bring you to a safe house, out of the reaches of the Ministry, and the best way is to apparate."  
  
"What is that?" asked Frodo.  
  
"Don't worry about it. Just hang on tight." Suddenly Frodo felt a very bizarre sense of movement. He felt he could see the entire earth around him, really see everything—inside, outside, over, underneath. He could see into houses, underground, underwater, in the air. Some places were entirely blank, however; though he recognized the gate of Hogwarts, he couldn't see anything inside. The movement stopped abruptly, and Frodo found himself, still clutching the man, on the front lawn of an elegant English country estate. The man put Frodo down gently, and led him by the hand to the door.  
  
A servant in full livery answered the door. "Welcome, Master Frodo," he said.  
  
The man said, "I must leave you now, Frodo. You are among friends. You will be safe here." He walked back up the lawn.  
  
Frodo turned and called, "Oh sir, I cannot thank you enough for rescuing me."  
  
The man replied pleasantly, "You are very welcome, Frodo Baggins. We will meet again, I think. Goodbye." He waved and then vanished.  
  
The servant led Frodo into an opulent parlor, and seated him in a soft velvet chair. The servant left; and then returned with a large tray of cakes and pastries, and a carafe of sweet wine, which he set before Frodo, and departed. Frodo remained in his chair. He was hungry, but touched nothing.  
  
"Ah, Frodo. At last, you are here." 

Frodo looked up. A tall, slim man had just walked in. He was richly dressed in a brocaded smoking jacket. He stooped down and beamed at Frodo. "This is such an honor. Do you know, Frodo, how very famous you are? I recall when I first read the Red Book. I was just a lad at the time. I remember being so taken with your heroism, your loyalty, your dedication to a hopeless task. I wanted ever so much to meet you." 

The tall man gazed for a long moment into Frodo's eyes. Frodo thought that the man was very fair. His lips were full and beautifully shaped. He had wavy dark hair shot through with silver, and long, thick, curling eyelashes. His large eyes were almond-shaped and grey; they seemed to shine with an ethereal light, and held Frodo in an intense gaze. Frodo could not help blushing, and looked away.  
  
"I beg your pardon," said Frodo, "But you remind me of an Elf—not a house- elf I mean, but…"  
  
"I do know what you mean, and I humbly accept your very high compliment," said the man, courteously. He reached for the carafe, and poured wine into two delicate cut-crystal glasses. "Will you have some wine, Frodo?" he said, offering a glass.  
  
"Thank you." Frodo brought the wine to his lips and took a sip. Immediately he felt a tingling warmth penetrate every part of his body, from the top of his head to the tips of his fingers and toes. He drained his glass, then reached for a cake. The cake was delicious, and seemed to augment the effect of the wine. Frodo sighed with relief and contentment. "Thank you. Thank you so much. You and your friends have saved me from a horror worse than death, I think. I am in your debt. If I could ever be of any service to you, Mr.--?"  
  
The elegant man smiled and extended his hand. "Voldemort," he said.   
  



	11. Treachery

****

Chapter 11: "Treachery"  
  
"Over there, Hagrid!" Harry and Hagrid ran to the edge of the forest. They found Frodo's sword Sting lying in the grass. But there was no sign of the Hobbits. They looked up in time to see a train of Dementors heading for the Hogwarts Gate. And leading them was Cornelius Fudge, carrying what appeared to be two small children.  
  
Hagrid swore under his breath. "Fudge! Shoulda' known that if there's Dementors about at Hogwarts, he'd be behind it!" Hagrid had had no love for Cornelius Fudge since the affair with his Hippogryff Buckbeak two years ago.  
  
Harry, utterly shaken, returned to the Gryffindor common room and told Ron and Hermione what had happened.  
  
"I wonder where he took them?" asked Ron.  
  
Harry looked at Ron bleakly. "I have a bad feeling about this. If Fudge brought Dementors, there's a chance he could be taking them to Azkaban."  
  
"Azkaban!" cried Hermione. "He can't put them there! Oh how horrible!" 

  
Harry shook his head. He felt that this was all his fault. Dumbledore had charged him with protecting the Hobbits.  
  
Ron, as if sensing Harry's guilt, said, "Harry, you can't think that you could have stood up to the Ministry of Magic? You're lucky the Dementors didn't kill you!" Harry didn't reply, but put his head in his hands. Then he sat up with a start.  
  
"Oh, as if things couldn't get any worse!" he cried. "I completely forgot. I have detention with Snape tonight. I should have been in his office hours ago."  
  
"Forget about it," said Ron. "Go tomorrow."  
  
"Tomorrow?" said Harry, with a hollow laugh. "Blow off Snape. Not show up for detention at all. Right." He stood up. "Better late than never. If I'm lucky, I'll only get detention for a week, not the whole month."  
  
"Maybe Snape will understand," said Hermione. Then, looking at Harry, she said, "Well, maybe not. I suppose you had better go."  
  
Harry strode down the stairs and made his way downstairs with a sinking heart. He had the unpleasant thought that Snape would punish him not only for being late, but also for going about after hours. Harry hoped that he wouldn't find Snape in his office at all. "No such luck," he thought to himself, grimly. The office door was agar, and candlelight could be seen flickering beyond it. Harry knocked gingerly on the door. "Professor Snape?"  
  
"Who is it? What do you want?" a grating, irritated voice answered. "Harry Potter! What are you doing here, skulking about at night?" asked Snape, eyes flashing.  
  
"Please sir, my detention," Harry said. "I—I'm sorry I'm late. I forgot. There was a lot going on this evening. The Dementors, sir. I was trying to protect…"  
  
"I heard all about it," snapped Snape. "As for your detention…" But he hesitated just then. In his fireplace, the flickering flames began to take on a different hue. He sprang out from behind his desk, grabbed Harry, and shoved him out the door. "Out, get out!" he spat. "Back to Gryffindor at once. Detention tomorrow. Go!" Snape slammed the door shut.  
  
Harry started to run up the corridor. Then he stopped, turned around, and crept back to Snape's door. He touched his wand to his ear and whispered, "Auros." Immediately Harry's hearing increased a thousand-fold in sensitivity. He put his ear to the door and listened.  
  
"…You have been given this chance to prove yourself loyal," said a voice behind the door. It wasn't Snape, Harry was sure. "If you fail, it will go ill with you. Use your Key to get to Azkaban."  
  
"Key? A Port-Key! Snape has a Port-Key from Hogwarts to Azkaban!" thought Harry, stunned.  
  
"Collect him," the voice went on. "Everything is arranged. Then apparate to the House."  
  
"Might I be allowed to bring both?" asked Snape, silkily.  
  
"Both?" laughed the other voice. "Do you really think his Lordship would trust you with the One? No, it is safe, and at his House already."  
  
"His Lordship?" thought Harry. "Voldemort!"  
  
"I understand," said Snape.  
  
"Leave now," said the voice. "You are expected immediately."  
  
Harry heard footsteps, then—nothing. He listened for several more minutes. Nothing. He straightened up and steeled himself to bear Snape's wrath. He turned the doorknob; it was open. In his haste, Snape had not locked the door. Harry gingerly stepped inside. He looked around. The office was empty. Snape had vanished!  
  
Harry dashed up the stairs and headed towards Professor Dumbledore's office. His mind was crowded with thoughts. Snape handled the locket, Harry realized. When Frodo fell from the broomstick, the locket flew off. Snape had picked it up, and did not return it willingly. That touch must have corrupted him. He wants the Ring. He has gone back to Lord Voldemort and betrayed us all! "Why, oh why, oh why was I so foolish?" Harry said aloud. "Why did I have to show off on that broomstick?"  
  
Harry was so caught up in his thoughts that he ran right into Professor Flitwick, sprawling the diminutive teacher onto the floor. "Harry!" said Flitwick, picking himself up. "What are you doing out after hours?"  
  
"I'm sorry," said Harry. "But it's something urgent; I have to speak to Professor Dumbledore."  
  
"Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonigall have gone to London, to plead with the Ministry for the release of the Hobbits," said Flitwick.  
  
"But I…" said Harry  
  
"Run along, now, Harry. Go back to Gryffindor at once. Do not interfere. This is a matter for teachers to resolve," said Flitwick, decisively.  
  
Harry found Ron and Hermione still sitting dejectedly by the fire in the common room. Hermione looked up, "That was a pretty brief detention, Harry. Was Snape in a good mood?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "Something terrible has happened." Harry related what he had heard at Snape's door.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "A Port-Key from Hogwarts to Azkaban. We've suspected Snape before, groundlessly, but…that is very incriminating." She thought for a minute. "You can't apparate or disapparate anywhere on the Hogwarts grounds…but Port-Keys work…"

"We know," said Ron, impatiently. 

Hermione shot him a look. "I wonder…if Professor Snape really is in league with You-Know-Who, he would be subject to repeated summons. But Snape can't apparate from Hogwarts. And I can't imagine that You-Know-Who would be daft enough to have his house on the Floo Network. So….perhaps Snape has _another_ Port-Key…a Port-Key from Hogwarts to the Dark Lord's house. He would need it to get back and forth unobtrusively."

"A Port-Key from Hogwarts to Voldemort's house," whispered Harry, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You said that Snape was directed to go first to Azkaban, and then apparate from Azkaban to the house," said Hermione. Harry nodded. She went on, "So…he might not have brought the Key to Voldemort's house with him, because he wouldn't need it. If we could find this Port-Key, we would have a chance at rescuing Frodo and Sam, and then bring them back here."  
  
"Right," said Ron. "And then all we'd have to do is fight You-Know-Who, Snape, and any other dark Wizards who might be there."  
  
"It's a long shot," said Harry. "We don't know if this Port-Key Hermione is talking about really exists. But it means the end of the world if Lord Voldemort gets the Ring. I am willing to die trying to prevent that, and to rescue Frodo and Sam."  
  
"I am, too," said Hermione, quietly. "Harry, you've dueled with You-Know-Who before. And we'd be there to help you this time."  
  
"I hope it doesn't come to that," said Harry.  
  
"This is suicide," said Ron. "But I'm coming with you."  
  
Harry grabbed his Invisibility Cloak, and they scrambled down the stairs to Snape's dungeon. Harry held his breath and pushed the door open. The room was still empty. "Now where's the Port-Key," he sighed. "If there is one."  
  
"Port-Keys, as you know, look like ordinary objects," observed Hermione. "I suspect he would put it where he wouldn't brush against it inadvertently, but would still keep it in ready reach. If we start testing objects, we should all hold hands, so we get transported together."  
  
They searched the room hand-in-hand. "That's it!" cried Ron. "A tortoise- shell comb. That must be it!"  
  
"Why do you think so?" asked Hermione.  
  
"Do you think he ever combs his hair?" Ron sniggered. But the comb was not the Key.  
  
Presently Harry said, "Aha! On the mantelpiece. A fountain pen. A muggle pen, not a quill. Snape is no lover of muggle artifacts; why would he have a pen?" Harry grasped the pen. Immediately he felt a strong tugging sensation in his midsection, and a feeling of very fast movement. When they came to rest, the trio found themselves sitting on a soft, sweet-smelling grassy lawn, in front of a vast country estate.  



	12. The Seduction of Master Frodo

****

Chapter 12: The Seduction of Master Frodo  
  
Frodo, who had started to offer his hand, recoiled in horror at the name 'Voldemort.' Voldemort gazed at him with stricken, sad eyes. "My dear, dear Frodo, what is the matter?" said Voldemort, taking Frodo's hand and stroking it. "What have they been telling you? Many things are said of me; almost none of them are true."  
  
"They tell me that you seek the Ring," said Frodo, pulling his hand away.  
  
"I seek it," said Voldemort. "But I would not take it from you by force. I had hoped that you might give it to me, freely." Frodo stared at him, defiant. "No? Frodo, you have offered the Ring to others, who refused because they lacked the power to control it. I do have that power. I would use the Ring to do good." Voldemort sat down in a chair opposite Frodo.  
  
"Now, Frodo," said Voldemort. "Know that you are free to go at any time. However, the Ministry of Magic will put you back in Azkaban if they find you. You are safe here; I offer you my home and my hospitality for as long as it pleases you. I can even send you back to the Third Age, if you wish it. In return for my generosity, I would like you to listen to what I have to say.  
  
"Your heroism in the Third Age is widely known. Middle Earth at that time was a place of great beauty, worth preserving. But this modern world is not like Middle Earth. It does not need to be preserved. It needs to be changed." Voldemort put down his wine and stood up. "Come with me, Frodo. There's something I want you to see." He led Frodo out of the estate, pausing to pick up a steaming black cauldron from a small antechamber. They went down a set of stone stairs into a grassy dell. Frodo stared at the silver basin standing on a stone pedestal.  
  
"The Mirror of Galadriel," he gasped.  
  
"Yes, indeed," said Voldemort. "It came into my possession a few months ago. I have been using it not only to see into the past, but to magically reach into it as well. That is how I brought you here, Frodo. But it will still show you visions of the present and the future. Look into it, Frodo, and ask it to show you the Shire as it is today." Voldemort filled the silver ewer with liquid from the cauldron, filled the basin, and breathed on it.  
  
Frodo bent over the basin. When the mists cleared, he saw the green, rolling countryside of the Shire, dotted with neat hobbit-holes. He sighed with pleasure. Then to his dismay, he saw dark roads cut across the land. The hobbit-holes disappeared one by one, and large, ugly buildings took their place. They belched black smoke into the air. Metal boxes on wheels streamed down the roads. The streets were filled with Men; not a hobbit was in sight.  
  
"Let me show you some other things," said Voldemort. And he bade the mirror show Frodo scenes of industrial wastelands, wars being fought and their aftermath, poverty, and desolation. Frodo was speechless in his horror. "I would bring everything back to the way it was," said Voldemort. "I would put things right. And you can help me do it."  
  
Lord Voldemort put his hand on Frodo's shoulder, and gently led him back inside and up to the parlour. He knelt before Frodo, and regarded at him kindly. Then he brushed away Frodo's tears, lightly caressing his face. He poured Frodo another glass of wine. Frodo drank it, grateful for another rush of tingling warmth.  
  
"Frodo, sweet Frodo," Voldemort said, taking Frodo's empty glass. "Do not believe what my enemies have said about me. They fear change. They fear the future. Your friends, or so they call themselves, do not really care about you. They are using you for their own purposes. They would have abandoned you to the horrors of Azkaban, to the Dementors. And they are plotting to send you back to the Third Age, with the Ring, even though your Quest there has already succeeded. They would doom you to needless suffering, torture, and mutilation." Voldemort embraced Frodo, gently stroking his hair. "I want to save you from all that. That is why I brought you here." Voldemort loosened his embrace, and looked into Frodo's eyes.  
  
Looking up into Lord Voldemort's large, grey eyes, Frodo felt his own eyelids grow impossibly heavy. He closed his eyes. Frodo was exhausted from his ordeals with the spider, the Dementors, and Azkaban. He was nearly intoxicated from the sweet wine. He was deeply troubled by what he had seen in the Mirror. And he was completely disarmed by Lord Voldemort's fair face, courteous manner, and kind words. Frodo detected no malice, no threat, no coercion on the part of Lord Voldemort. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps he had just been misunderstood. Perhaps he wasn't a Dark Lord at all….  
  
Frodo's head fell back and his body relaxed. Lord Voldemort gently lowered him to the floor. He undid the top buttons of Frodo's shirt and reached for the locket. "Give it to me, Frodo, my preciousss," hissed Voldemort.  
  
Frodo, now in a twilight state between waking and sleep, heard a voice in his head say, "Yes, yes, take it, take what you want, take the Ring." Voldemort lifted his head and took off the locket. He cradled Frodo's head in his arm, and pressed the locket itself into Frodo's hands. "There is one more thing I need from you," whispered Voldemort, bending his head down. "This locket is enchanted. Only a Hobbit can open it. I need you to do this for me, precious Frodo. Open the locket."  
  
Frodo opened his eyes slightly and looked at the shining silver locket. He thought about the last person to whom he had offered the Ring: Lady Galadriel. Sam had wanted her to take it so that she might put a stop to whoever was digging up Bagshot Row. What had she said to him? 'That is where it would begin. It would not end there, alas.'  
  
At that moment, Frodo realized that his doom was to bear the Ring and never give it away. His fate was to destroy it. Gaining strength from some unknown reserve, Frodo heard in his head his own voice say, "No, never!"  
  
"No!!!" Frodo cried, twisting himself from Voldemort's grasp.  
  
"Frodo, why do you recoil from me?" Voldemort gasped. "I only want to help you." He reached again for Frodo.  
  
"Keep away from me!" Frodo cried. "I want to leave, now!"  
  
Just then the front doorbell rang. "Don't go just yet, dear Frodo. We have more visitors," Voldemort said, silkily. He caught Frodo's arm in a gentle, but secure grip. "Perhaps even some people you know."


	13. Settling an Old Score

****

Chapter 13: "Settling an Old Score"  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione huddled under the invisibility cloak and debated what to do next. The front door was shut and locked most likely with enchantments capable of resisting a simple unlocking spell. They also did not fancy the idea of ringing the doorbell and announcing themselves. They could not even be sure that this was Lord Voldemort's house at all.

  
Suddenly, a cloaked Wizard apparated six paces away from them. He was holding what appeared to be a child in his arms. He approached the front door.  
  
"That's Sam!" whispered Harry, urgently. The Wizard rang the doorbell. "Let's sneak behind him, under the Invisibility Cloak, when the door opens. Be quiet!"  
  
The liveried servant greeted the Wizard, and formally opened the door. He held it wide open, paused, and then closed it with a flourish. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had just made it indoors. They huddled in the entryway, watching Sam and the cloaked Wizard ascend the stairs. Then they crept carefully up the stairs and slipped into the parlor behind the Wizard and Sam.  
  


Frodo waited. He briefly thought about putting on the Ring and trying to escape; but then realized that out of the locket, the Ring would be vulnerable, even on his finger. Perhaps then all Voldemort would have to do would be to shout, "Accio, Ring," and it would be all over. He also suspected that there might be Dementors about. And he supposed they, wraith-like, would be attracted to the Ring.  
  
Presently, Frodo heard voices on the landing. A sneering, grating voice that was eerily familiar. A higher-pitched voice. Footsteps proceeded up the stairs. Voldemort released Frodo's arm.  
  
"Mr. Frodo!" Sam cried, running in and hugging Frodo. "You're here! Mr. Snape told me you would be. I'll admit I wasn't too happy to see him at first, even at Azkaban, but he's been true to his word. Shows you can't always tell a person from first impressions, right Mr. Frodo?"  
  
"Sam," said Frodo sadly. "I'm afraid you were right about Snape initially. He has delivered you from the frying pan directly into the fire!" Sam was aghast.  
  
Frodo looked up and saw Snape approach and kneel down before Lord Voldemort. But Voldemort caught his hand and brought him up. He embraced Snape and kissed him on both cheeks.  
  
"Well done, well done!" Voldemort cried, looking at the two Hobbits. "Severus, you and Lucius are to be commended for a superb night's work." He put his hand on Snape's shoulder and said, "It is so good to have you back, Severus. I thought you had left me forever."  
  
"You knew I would return, Lord," said Snape, his eyes downcast. "You knew I could not stay away."  
  
Voldemort turned to the Hobbits. "Frodo, give me the Ring!" he said, sternly.  
  
"No!" cried Frodo.  
  
Voldemort pointed his wand at Sam. "Sam, unfortunately for you, your friend Frodo leaves me no choice. It's unpleasant, but there is no lasting damage. _Crucio_!" he cried. The curse hit Sam full in the face, and he fell to the ground, writhing and screaming in pain. Voldemort let him flop about for several seconds, then released him. Voldemort addressed Frodo again. "Frodo, I don't want to have to do that again. Please give me the Ring."  
  
Frodo, weeping, said, "No, no, never!"  
  
Harry, watching from beneath the Invisibility Cloak could stand this no longer. He leaped up, pointed his wand at Lord Voldemort and cried, "_Stupefy_!" As he did so, he inadvertently pulled the Cloak off of Ron and Hermione. Harry's spell hit Lord Voldemort's shoulder, paralyzed his left arm, and knocked him down.  
  
But Lord Voldemort whirled about as he fell, and with a masterful sweep of his wand, cried, "_Immobilis! Expelliarmus!_" Harry, Ron, and Hermione were rooted to the ground, and their wands flew into Voldemort's outstretched hand. He dropped their wands on the floor, but still held his own wand aloft and ready.  
  
Thus sprawled on the ground, Voldemort stared at the three teenagers in incredulous and indignant amazement. He was grimacing in pain; one leg seemed to be twisted under him unnaturally.  
  
"Master!" cried Snape. He ran over and tapped Voldemort's left arm with his wand and got it moving again. "Let me help you," said Snape, soothingly, as he tried to pick Voldemort up.  
  
"Ah! No!" cried Voldemort, as he grabbed his right knee. Snape crouched before him and tried to magically repair the small ligaments that had been torn.  
  
"Cruciate ligaments. Cruciate for excruciating," hissed Voldemort, arching his back in discomfort. "You should study the healing arts more, Severus," he said, waving Snape aside. Voldemort tapped his own knee with his wand. "That will do for now," he said, wincing slightly as Snape helped him to his feet. Snape then picked up off the floor and pocketed the three students' wands.  
  
Voldemort turned to face Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Fury flickered across Voldemort's eyes. Then, abruptly, he recovered himself. He took a deep breath. He smiled coldly.  
  
"Why, how nice of you to drop by, Master Harry Potter. I've missed you since I saw you last. And I see you've brought some friends. How kind." He extended his hand to Hermione. "May I have the pleasure of your acquaintance? My name is Voldemort." Hermione recoiled from him, as far as she could with her feet stuck to the ground. Voldemort picked up her hand and kissed it. She snatched it away. "Dear me," he said. "We shall have to teach you better manners than that. And," he paused, gazing at her, "I think you will find me a very, very good teacher."  
  
He turned to Ron. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure," he murmured, extending his hand.  
  
"I'm Ron," he said, furiously. He grabbed Voldemort's hand and squeezed it hard. Voldemort squeezed back. Ron winced as Voldemort snapped every bone in his hand, but did not cry out.  
  
"What a nice party," said Voldemort, acidly. "I presume you're all here to see the fun, so I sha'n't leave you in suspense any longer."  
  
Voldemort turned and cried, "Frodo, give me the Ring! No? _Crucio_!" Sam again writhed and screamed. Frodo curled up in a ball, rocked back and forth, wept bitterly, pulled at his hair, but would not give up the Ring. After what seemed like an eternity, Voldemort released Sam. Glad of the reprieve, he lay panting on the ground.  
  
Lord Voldemort walked over to Frodo and glowered down at him. His eyes flashed menacingly with barely contained rage. And then, to Frodo's abject horror, Lord Voldemort's grey eyes slowly turned a livid, fiery red. His nose flattened and his nostrils became serpent-like slits. His skin turned ghastly white. This was the terrible true face of Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, most powerful Black Sorcerer on earth. The room darkened, and an evil light fell upon the Dark Lord's face. He seemed to grow in stature then, as a giant towering over the small, cowering Hobbit.  
  
In a voice that thundered through Frodo's body, Lord Voldemort commanded, "I have no more patience, Frodo. No more. Give me the Ring!"  
  
Frodo, terrified, covered his eyes and threw himself down upon the floor. He clutched the locket and shrieked, "No! No! I won't let you!"  
  
Lord Voldemort pointed his wand at Sam. "_Avada Kevadra_!" he cried. The killing curse streamed from the wand; but at the last moment, Lord Voldemort precisely shifted his aim. The curse changed direction and hit Harry, squarely in the chest. There was a rushing sound and a flash of green light. Harry Potter fell, dead. 


	14. The Lord of the Ring

****

Chapter 14: "The Lord of the Ring"  
  
Frodo remained on the ground, with his hands still covering his eyes. He had heard the blast, and had expected to die. He heard screaming. He began to tremble uncontrollably. Then he felt the touch of a gentle hand, stroking his hair. He looked up, slowly. The first thing he saw was Harry, crumpled on the ground, his green eyes half-open. Hermione was shrieking and wailing. Ron was in utter shock, staring at Harry. Sam was rocking back and forth on the floor, his eyes wild.  
  
Frodo turned around to see who was touching him. It was Lord Voldemort, once more fair, his eyes the color of ice. He gazed kindly at Frodo, and spoke to him in soothing tones. "I am sorry about Harry," said Voldemort. "But I was settling an old score. He has tried to kill me on a number of occasions. Even tonight, as you saw, he attacked me first and injured me." Voldemort's voice softened further. "Frodo, if you'll give the Ring to Sam, I promise not to torture or kill him, or either of your remaining young friends."  
  
Frodo could not think clearly anymore. He was willing to do almost anything to stop more torture and death. He hesitated just a moment, then held the locket up to Sam. Sam took it from his hand. Just as the locket left his fingers Frodo realized what would happen. "No, Sam!" he cried. He tried to take back the locket, but Voldemort pushed him away.  
  
"_Immobilis_!" Snape's curse hit his feet. Frodo was stuck to the floor.  
  
Voldemort laid his wand on Frodo's face. "_Crucio_!" he cried. Now Frodo began to writhe and scream in agony.  
  
"No!" sobbed Sam. "Stop it! Stop it now!"  
  
Voldemort lifted his wand. "You want me to stop? Open the locket. Give me the Ring."  
  
"No, Sam, don't," gasped Frodo.  
  
But watching his master be tortured was too much for Sam to bear. He could not resist. He opened the locket. The Ring shone within.  
  
  
With trembling, ecstatic hands, Lord Volemort took the Ring. He held it in his hands and marveled at it. "The Ring, the One Ring, the Ring of power," he gasped.  
  
He touched his wand to his hand. "_Incendio_," he whispered. Immediately a magical flame kindled in his palm. In the midst of the flames, the Ring at once began to glow. Elvish letters shone red about it. The Ring itself then glowed entirely red and began to change shape.  
  
And then, before Lord Voldemort's shocked and incredulous eyes, the Ring melted. "Ah!" he cried, his hand burned not by the magical flames, but by the molten gold. He turned his hand, and what was left of the Ring dripped onto the ground. All stared at it, thunderstruck.  
  
"What! What is this!" cried Voldemort, gripping his maimed hand.  
  
"My Lord," said Snape quietly. "The Rings of power all faded at the end of the Third Age. It may be that this Ring faded also. Sauron does not exist today. Also, no Ruling Ring has ever been transported thousands of years through time. There was no way to predict what would happen."  
  
Voldemort was silent for a long moment. Then his face twitched into a kind of wry smile. He even chuckled a few times, shaking his head. Then abruptly, Voldemort seemed to notice Ron and Hermione staring at him. Voldemort's expression darkened and kindled to fury again. He turned back towards Frodo and said, "Well, you seem to have outlived your usefulness."  
  
"Lord, perhaps we…" started Snape.  
  
"Silence!" snapped Lord Voldemort. He pointed his wand at Frodo's heart .  
  
"_Avada Kavadra_," he intoned in a low voice.  
  
The curse streamed out from Voldemort's wand and hit Frodo in the chest. It scattered and rays of the curse ricocheted out diffusely in many directions. One ray hit Lord Voldemort, and brought him down. For Frodo still had on his Mithril mail shirt. Mithril, that ancient metal, delved by Dwarves, wrought and enchanted by Elves, stops not only Orc arrows and evil Wizards' knives, it also repels killing curses.  
  
Severus Snape was still standing, however. With a look of grim resolution, he slowly raised his wand and pointed it at the fallen figure of Lord Voldemort.  
  
Then the doorbell rang.  
  
Snape hesitated, looking over at the students and the Hobbits. "There is no time!" he exclaimed in frustration. He turned from Voldemort and waved his wand at the feet of Ron, Hermione, and Frodo. "_Mobilis_!" cried Snape. They could walk again. Snape then sprang over to Ron and Hermione and, to their complete astonishment, gave them back their wands. "Do you still have my Port-Key?" he asked. They nodded.  
  
He turned to Frodo, "Do you know where it is? Did he show it to you? The Mirror!"  
  
"Yes," said Frodo. "But…"  
  
"I have no time to explain." Speaking very quickly, Snape went on, "You two, take the Hobbits out the back way. Frodo will guide you to the Mirror. Take it, the ewer and yourselves back to Hogwarts using the Port- Key. Use the Invisibility Cloak. I'll need to use Harry's wand for a moment, but you must take it before you go." Snape was panting now, out of breath.  
  
"But what about Harry's body!" cried Hermione.  
  
"No! It will slow you down. I'll take it back to Hogwarts myself," snapped Snape.

  
They could hear voices in the entryway.  
  
"I'm going to do something now, and then everyone needs to leave immediately. Don't forget Harry's wand," said Snape, looking anxiously towards the door. "Oh! I almost forgot. Frodo, take this!" He produced a small package and held it outstretched in one hand. In his other hand, Snape took up Harry's wand and turned it on himself. "_Stupefy_!" he cried. The curse shot out from the tip of the wand and hit Snape, hard, in the chest. He fell.  
  
Hermione, Ron, Frodo and Sam stared at the unconscious figure of Severus Snape in total amazement. The sound of footsteps on the stairs jolted them out of their shock. Frodo grabbed the package. Hermione pulled Harry's wand from Snape's limp hands, then grabbed the Invisibility Cloak. She had just gotten everyone underneath when the door opened.  
  
Lucius Malfoy entered. "What on earth!" he cried. "Master!" Malfoy ran to Lord Voldemort's side. Hobbits and students crept out, and down the stairs. Frodo and Sam, still suffering the effects of the Cruciatus curse, couldn't make it any farther than the back door, and had to be carried.  
  
Frodo led them down the stone steps into the grassy dell where the Mirror of Galadriel lay. "This is it," he said.  
  
Ron, cradling his injured hand, said, "Should we do this? Should we trust him? Should we bring this thing? It could be a trap, some other kind of Port-Key, maybe send us straight to You-Know-Who's dungeons."  
  
"We should bring it," said Frodo, hoarsely. "This mirror is Elven-work. It is not evil." All clasped hands, and held between them the ewer and the basin. Hermione grasped the fountain pen. They came to rest at the front gate of Hogwarts.  
  
  



	15. Three Wizards

****

Chapter 15: "Three Wizards"  
  
"Enervate!" a familiar voice hissed. Severus Snape opened his eyes. Lord Voldemort was sitting in front of him. He was holding his head and drinking the last of the sweet wine. Lucius Malfoy had his wand pointed at Snape.  
  
"What happened?" said Snape, drawing himself up slowly. "Oh! Ah!" he groaned. He rubbed his head, too. "Lord Voldemort was killing one of the hobbits, and…"  
  
"And what?" sneered Malfoy. "We'd all really like to know. I came in here ten minutes ago, found you both out cold. What happened, Snape? Did you curse his Lordship and take the Ring?"  
  
"Come, now, Lucius," said Voldemort wearily, with a wave of his hand. "Suppose he had cursed me and taken the Ring. I would be dead, and so would you, Lucius. No, I had the Ring in my hands. Set it on fire. Saw the Elvish script. It was the One. And then, Lucius, it melted. Yes, the One Ring melted." He took another sip of wine. "Guess Sauron's old Black Magic isn't what its cracked up to be, eh Severus. But you know, I could have sworn that Ring had some power left. I could feel it, as I was torturing that wretched Hobbit. Some powerful force, egging me on. But…perhaps not."  
  
Voldemort threw his glass down in frustration. It shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. Snape pointed his wand at the shards, and they magically reassembled. "Thank you, Severus," said Voldemort, as Snape waved the glass over to the sideboard. "No, Lucius, I hit the Hobbit with a killing curse, but I was tired; and I forgot about his Mithril shirt. The backlash threw me down."  
  
"Your curse rebounded? You weren't injured?" asked Snape.  
  
Malfoy and Voldemort looked at him quizzically. "Ah, yes," said Voldemort, finally. "I forget sometimes what you have and haven't been told, Severus. But there's no harm, I believe, in revealing this to you. I've taken precautions against being injured or killed by my own curses. What those precautions are I think I will keep a secret for the moment. All you need to know, dear Severus, is that it would take far more than ordinary magic to kill me now."  
  
"As I suspected," thought Snape. He nodded but said nothing.  
  
"Speaking of rebounding curses, one good thing did come out of this," said Voldemort, brightly. "I finished things with Harry Potter." He looked at Harry's lifeless body and smiled. His expression changed as he turned towards Snape. "Which reminds me—where in hell did he and those teen-agers come from, anyway, Snape?"  
  
"My Lord," said Snape, carefully. "I believe that he may have overheard my conversation with Lucius. I had given Harry a detention this morning. He should have reported for it at four o'clock, but the business with Fudge and the Dementors taking the Hobbits evidently put it out of his head. Put it out of my head, too, actually. It would have been helpful if you had warned me about that ahead of time, Lucius."  
  
"As you know, we are only just starting to trust you again, Snape," sneered Malfoy. "We thought it unwise for you to know the whole plan."  
  
"Harry then remembered his detention and came down to my office at eight o'clock or thereabouts. I saw the firelight change, and told him to go. He may have listened at the door. His friend, that Granger girl, is insufferably bright, and perhaps deduced the existence of a Port-Key to your house, Lord. Armed with an invisibility cloak, they were able to slip in unnoticed."  
  
"So what are you going to do about these children? They will accuse you, no doubt. You're no use to us as a spy if you're in Azkaban." said Voldemort.  
  
Snape stood up quickly and shook out his robes. "Albus Dumbledore is the only person they would trust to tell. And he is still in London. A memory charm would do the trick. I'll bring Harry's body back and leave it in the forest; his death will be a mystery. I should leave immediately."  
  
"Not quite immediately," said Voldemort, rising and wincing a bit as he put weight on his right leg. "I think you have an hour or so to spare yet." He gazed fondly at Snape. "Oh, Severus, my old friend. How I want to believe you. But, for the sake of neatness, I need to check a few things. Give me your wand."  
  
"Lord?" said Snape.  
  
"Give it to me." Snape reluctantly handed his wand to Voldemort. Pointing the wand back at Snape, Voldemort said, "Prior Incanto." The wand shot out a weak Immobilis spell. "You froze the Hobbit's feet with that, I think," said Voldemort.  
  
"Yes, Lord," answered Snape, reversing the spell and turning to go.  
  
"One more thing." Voldemort blocked his way. "Take off your outer robes. I want to search them."  
  
"What…what are you looking for?" asked Snape.  
  
"I don't know; something. Are you hiding anything from me?" asked Voldemort. A dangerous red flicker had come into his eyes.  
  
"No, Lord, I…"  
  
"Then take them off." Snape did so. Voldemort searched them, then tossed them aside. He walked up to Snape and laid his wand on Snape's chest. "You can leave us now, Lucius." 


	16. The Lamentations of Severus Snape

****

Chapter 16: The Lamentations of Severus Snape  
  
Painfully, slowly, Hermione, Ron, Frodo, and Sam passed through the Hogwarts gate and up the great lawn. They went to the infirmary and woke the nurse, Madame Pomfrey. She repaired Ron's broken hand, and gave them all magical chocolate, the kind that warms, heals, and cheers. They could not speak to her of what had happened. As their shock faded, grief overcame them; they embraced one another and wept. Realizing she could do no more for them, Madame Pomfrey withdrew.  
  
Her arms about him, her tears falling into his hair, Hermione said to Frodo, "At least there is one good thing that has come out of all this. The Ring is gone. It melted in Lord Voldemort's evil fire. You are freed from your Quest. You can go home—or stay."  
  
Frodo hugged her tightly in reply, and wept. He still felt a weight upon his chest; but he supposed it was his grief that pulled him down.  


Several hours later, having narrowly survived Lord Voldemort's search and interrogation, Severus Snape began a long and weary journey. In moonless darkness, he passed through the Hogwarts gate and up the great lawn, bearing in his arms a heavy burden: the body of Harry Potter. Snape could have cast a spell to make it feather-light. Or he could have used the Mobilis Corpus spell to make it walk on its own. But somehow the aching in his arms and back, and the great effort of every step distracted Snape from the fury in his heart.  
  
He got as far as the front steps; and then great fatigue overcame him and he had to sit down. He still held Harry in his arms. His dark eyes hollow with exhaustion, Snape stared for a long while into the bleak night. 

"Harry," Snape said aloud. "How very like your father you are…you _were_. Neither of you considered yourselves mere mortals. I remember how your father used to strut about in school, considering himself a cut above us all." His lips curled into a sneer. "And when he left Hogwarts, that vain, foolish boy thought that a hero on the Quiddich field could be a hero in the real world." 

"You, Harry," Snape continued, grimly, "you repeated his mistakes." Snape's sharp features twisted in anger. "Over and over again I told the Headmaster that the latitude he gave you only encouraged you to take further risks. Gave you a swelled head, made you think you were invulnerable! Well, I was right. I was right all along. I always knew it would come to this!" Snape gave a great sigh, and then bowed his head. "You did too, I suppose."

Hollow-eyed, Snape looked down at the lifeless boy in his arms. "I hated James, it is true. Hated him for his arrogance and his folly. Hated the senseless way in which he died, and the anguish it caused so many people. I did try…." Snape closed his eyes. "I did try to warn him. But it was not enough. In the end, I could not repay my debt to him…."

He sat there for a moment, eyes shut, still clutching Harry's body in his arms. Then, in an anguished whisper, he muttered, "I am so very sorry, Harry. I could not protect you. I would not have survived a duel with Lord Voldemort. And everyone would have been killed in the crossfire." 

Snape broke off and remained still. He opened his eyes and stared into the gloom, his mind crowded with thoughts and memories. Then, lifting Harry's body, he struggled to his feet again. He gazed at Harry's face and said, "I did not choose my burdens, Harry. But I bear them as best I can." And Severus Snape carried inside the body of Harry Potter.

  
Snape went to the infirmary. As he walked inside, he was greeted with cries of astonishment and grief. And some of reproach. He ignored them. He laid Harry's body down gently on one of the beds, and went to rouse Madame Pomfrey. Perhaps he had some vain hope that Harry could still be saved. The nurse ran to his bedside, and applied many powerful reviving charms, but to no avail. Harry was quite dead.  
  
"Madame Pomfrey, thank you for your efforts. I must ask you to leave us, now," sighed Snape, as he collapsed into a chair beside Harry's bed. "I must also ask you not to raise the alarm or tell anyone about this, for now." She assented and left. Snape turned to face Frodo, Sam, Hermione and Ron. They stared at one another for a long time.  
  
Ron broke the silence. "Traitor," he said. "You brought Sam to be tortured. You got Harry killed. You almost got us all killed. You delivered the Ring into You-Know-Who's hands!"  
  
"If he wanted us all dead, why did he give us back our wands?" observed Hermione. "Besides, the Ring melted."  
  
"You are both partially right," said Snape. "I brought Sam to the Dark Lord's house, but only to get to Frodo, and rescue them both. Voldemort would have gotten the Ring, and it would have melted. I have known the Dark Lord for many years. I know his mind and his sense of humor. His ego would have been fed by the thought that his own magical fire was powerful enough to melt Sauron's Ring. He would have been amused by the look on Frodo's face when the Ring melted. It would not have been at all difficult to persuade him to let the Hobbits go. He has no need of them, and they present no threat. Despite his reputation, he only kills when he has a reason, usually.  
  
"But then the three of you showed up, in his house, under his nose. Harry actually hit him with a curse and injured him. He was infuriated and embarrassed. Imagine! The Dark Lord Voldemort, surprised and ambushed in his own house by three teenagers. At that point, he became angry, dangerous, and unpredictable. Your actions were brave but misguided." Hermione began again to weep. Ron put his arm around her.  
  
"Why did you turn Harry's wand on yourself?" asked Sam.  
  
"To maintain my credibility as a spy. I pretended to have been knocked out by a small fraction of the same blast that felled Voldemort."  
  
"I have a question," asked Frodo. "How did you know the Ring would melt?"  
  
"Ah," said Snape. "Look at the package I gave you."  
  
"The package?" said Frodo. "I had forgotten about it." From his tunic pocket, Frodo withdrew a small package, bound up in brown paper and string. He unwrapped it slowly, and drew out a shining silver locket. He opened the locket. The Ring, the true Ring, the One Ring glittered within. Frodo at once felt its power and weight. He shut the locket abruptly. "Then the other ring was…"  
  
"A decoy," said Snape, smiling grimly. "We've learned a thing or two since the Third Age. At that time, Sauron believed that Aragorn of Arathorn had the Ring, and did not suspect that a couple of Hobbits would be trying to destroy it. This time, Lord Voldemort knew that Hobbits had the ring, and that we would most definitely be trying to destroy it or send it back. You two were very vulnerable targets. So we switched rings without telling you; we feared you would not give up the Ring willingly."  
  
"But," said Sam, "We saw the Elvish letters glow."  
  
"It was a very _good_ decoy. Professor Dumbledore stayed up all Friday night making it after you went to bed. Not only did it glow Elvish runes when heated, it also would have turned you invisible had you put it on. We did not think Lord Voldemort would be fooled by any old ring."  
  
"When did you exchange the lockets?" asked Frodo.  
  
"After you fell off the broomstick Saturday morning," Snape replied. "I had planned to switch them while you were sleeping, but your fall provided a perfect opportunity. The Ring was seeking a new owner, I suppose. It got one, temporarily."  
  
Frodo looked at Snape. "Then you have borne the Ring."  
  
"For a little while," Snape answered quietly.  
  
Frodo sat and held the locket for a while in his hands, lost in thought. Then he said, "This means I have to go back. I have to finish the Quest."  
  
"Oh, Frodo," said Snape, gently. "Yes. Yes, you do." Hermione began again to weep. Snape looked down at the foot of Frodo's bed and saw the silver ewer and basin. "I see that you have the Mirror here. Dumbledore will likely send you back tonight."  
  
Snape rose. "I told Lord Voldemort that I would use a memory charm on you all to erase what happened last night. I will not do that. I will trust you to speak to no one about this except Professor Dumbledore. Harry's death must remain a mystery. There are spies everywhere; a careless word from any of you could be carried back to Lord Voldemort." He turned to go.  
  
"What would you have done if Frodo had been killed?" Ron asked.  
  
"He was not killed, so let us not think about that," said Snape, as he closed the infirmary door. But as he walked towards his rooms, the answer to Ron's question floated in his mind: "I would have borne my Burden and followed my path."  
  
  



	17. Torn in Two

****

Chapter 17 : "Torn in Two"  
  
Albus Dumbledore returned from London the following afternoon. That evening, he met in his office with Frodo and Sam. They talked for a long while about the events of the previous night.  
  
"Poor Mr. Harry," said Sam. "When that awful Dark Lord started torturing me, he leapt up and tried to save me. It was a rash move, but a brave one."  
  
"Yes, poor Harry. He was brave and good. I shall grieve for him long. It was his doom to be killed by the Dark Lord, though he escaped that fate many times," said Dumbledore, sadly.  
  
"Before Sam and Severus showed up, Lord Voldemort tried to do something to me," said Frodo. "Something very bad. It was torture, though an almost pleasant kind of torture, in a—in a horrible sort of way. I can't describe it." He shuddered at the memory.  
  
"I was afraid of that," said Dumbledore. "Seduction is Lord Voldemort's specialty. Once caught in that kind of snare, few ever escape his clutches. In fact, only one that I know of."  
  
"Who?" asked Frodo.  
  
"Severus Snape," answered Dumbledore. "Lord Voldemort offered him everything he could ever have wanted. Things more seductive than power, glory, or fortune, though he offered these, too. But Severus recognized the evil. He found the strength to turn away; he found some humility, some basic goodness deep within. The life Severus chose instead, here at Hogwarts, is painful for him in many ways. I do not know, but I suppose he thinks, often, about what he gave up.  
  
"To turn away from, and reject Lord Voldemort is vastly more difficult than never becoming associated with him in the first place. It is an addiction of sorts. But Severus is like you, Frodo. He bears his burdens and follows his path; often imperfectly, but as well as he can. That is why I appointed him Ringbearer, for a little while. He did not want the Ring, but he accepted it.  
  
"I will be sending you back as soon as the moon sets. You have time to make some final goodbyes," said Dumbledore.  
  
Just then the door opened. Severus Snape walked in, looking ill and greatly fatigued. The Hobbits started to speak to him, but he waved them off.  
  
"Later," he said. "Make your good-byes. I'll be there to see you off."  
  
Snape lowered himself into a chair and watched the Hobbits leave.  
  
"Severus," said Dumbledore. "You know that there was nothing you could have done to save Harry."  
  
Snape closed his eyes and nodded, imperceptibly.  
  
Dumbledore went on, "Harry should not have been there. He sought his doom. A fight with Lord Voldemort would have been disastrous. And then Voldemort would have had the Ring."  
  
"The Ring," Snape said, quietly. He began to shiver.  
  
"I felt it, Albus. From the moment I took the Ring, I felt it call me. I felt it search for me. I felt the presence of an Eye, the presence of Sauron himself. Yet it was not ugly. It was beautiful. It promised me…it promised me…" Snape stopped speaking and looked down. Then he said, "It promised me the same thing that Lord Voldemort did. And still does."  
  
In a quiet, halting voice he continued, "To have both the Ring and Voldemort at the same time calling me…to have no resistance left, and yet no choice but to resist…it is too much." He had a forlorn, faraway gaze in his eyes. His voice became quieter still. "I am torn in two and utterly bereft. They are both gone to me now. I turned from one and gave the other away. I can never have them back." Here Severus Snape broke off. He could say no more.  
  
Dumbledore had no words of comfort. He put his hand on Snape's shoulder.  
  
Almost imperceptibly, Snape shook his head. Dumbledore hesitated; then drew his hand back.  


Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, at that moment stirred and rustled its feathers. It hopped off of its perch and into Snape's lap. Its intelligent eyes filled with tears. It put its head against Snape's face and wept.  
  
"Phoenix tears are said to cure all wounds," thought Dumbledore. "This one too, I hope."  
  



	18. Time's Arrow

****

Chapter 18: "Time's Arrow"  
  
Sam and Frodo said their good-byes. Sam spent his last hour down in the kitchens with the House-elves. They had fed him well and frequently, Hobbit-fashion. Hagrid joined Sam there.  
  
Frodo spent his time with Hermione. She accepted his fate, although it was a terrible grief to her to lose two friends within the same day. Frodo sang her an old song:  
  
_The Road goes ever on and on  
Down from the door where it began.  
Now far ahead the Road has gone,  
And I must follow if I can,  
Pursuing it with weary feet.  
Though friends may weep that I must go,  
I hope one day our paths may meet,  
Beyond the earth and stars that glow.  
_  
The moon set. They walked hand and hand down the lawn to the Hogwarts Gate. Sam, Ron, Snape, and Dumbledore were waiting for them. Frodo took the Ring out of the locket and set it again on its silver chain. He gave the locket to Dumbledore. "I believe I should enter my world again the way I left it," said Frodo.  
  
Snape approached and stooped before Frodo and Sam. He put his hands on their shoulders. "Farewell Sam. Farewell Ring-bearer. I have borne what you bear. But your road is longer and much harder than mine. May it take you finally home and then West." Snape's eyes traveled to the Ring; but, with a great effort, he rose and turned away.  
  
"The Mirror of Galadriel is prepared. Are you ready?" asked Dumbledore.  
  
"Yes," said Frodo.  
  
"Yes," said Sam.  
  
Dumbledore gazed into the mirror. The stars reflected in it, then went out. Mists covered the surface, then cleared. Dumbledore saw a jagged, barren, hilly landscape, and commanded a date: February 29, 3019 of the Third Age of Middle Earth. He touched his wand to the water and uttered the words "Incanto Tempus." A great mist rose up just beyond the Hogwarts Gate. The two Hobbits joined hands, walked outside the Gate, and vanished, never to be seen again in this age.  
  
Dumbledore returned his attention to the Mirror. He commanded it to show a different scene, at a different time. He looked at the wood of Lothlorien in the Fourth Age. The Elves had been gone for many years. Arwen lay quiet in her green grave. But the Mirror of Galadriel had remained behind, forgotten, never to be used again until the time of Lord Voldemort. Dumbledore put his wand into the water, pointed it at the Mirror in the Mirror and said, "Reducto!" The Mirror in the Mirror flew into pieces, and the spells wound about it came apart.  
  
As Albus Dumbledore drew out his wand, the Mirror itself vanished. And then the arrow of that timeline stopped. Everything collapsed.  
  
  
  
"Let's go to Hogsmeade!" said Ron.  
  
"What, tonight?" asked Hermione.  
  
"Why not? We haven't been allowed to go since You-Know-Who turned up again. I'm getting stir-crazy. Harry's got his Marauder's Map and his Invisibility Cloak. Why not sneak out? A fun Friday night at the pub, what do you say, Harry?"  
  
Harry smiled. He had been feeling a bit restless lately, too. The school year so far had been like waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was tired of being careful. "Why not!" he said. "Let's go."  
  
Suddenly all three of them stopped talking. A powerful and strange sensation caught and washed over them. Everything around them seemed to shimmer, collapse, and reform. They recovered, feeling as if they had woken up from a beautiful yet bittersweet dream, although they could not recall any part of it. Hermione found herself crying, but did not know why.  
  
Harry said, "What was that?" Ron and Hermione shook their heads.  
  
Wiping away her tears, Hermione said, "Harry, I know I'm being a pain, but I think you should be careful. I don't think Hogsmeade is such a good idea tonight."  
  
"You're probably right," said Harry.  
  
"Voice of reason," grinned Ron.  
  
  
  
"Well, master, we're in a fix and no mistake," said Sam Gamgee. He stood despondently with hunched shoulders beside Frodo, and peered out with puckered eyes into the gloom of the hills of Emyn Muil.  
  
  
  
So begins Book 4 of The Two Towers  
  
And ends Harry and Frodo  
  
THE END 


End file.
